


Side Effects

by chvotic



Series: A Son Needs his Father, and a Father Needs his Son [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Aftermath, Age Regression/De-Aging Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bed-Wetting, Childhood Memories, Crying, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Nightmares, No Endgame, No Infinity War, POV Peter Parker, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is struggling, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Public Humiliation, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Separation Anxiety, Slow Burn, Stuffed Toys, Teen Peter Parker, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thumb-sucking, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wetting, pull ups, theres gonna be a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chvotic/pseuds/chvotic
Summary: He unconsciously removed his hand from his thigh, and hugged the Iron Man plushie instead of raising it to his mouth, like he most likely would have done if he was still small. He clasped the plushie for the rest of the ride, now very conscious of where his hands were, keeping them occupied so his fingers didn't end up in his mouth a second time. Of course he remembered the pacifiers, and how comforting they felt. How could he forget?He wished he could forget the comfort that the soothers, among everything else, had brought him.Or, in which, Peter is suffering the many side effects from Loki's spell, all the while dealing with the many new memories he had gained, and maybe even longed to have again.(must read first book to understand this one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome back!
> 
> i'm really scared to post this, because i'm worried about what people are going to think. i hope i don't ruin it! i went through and edited this around six times since i wrote it weeks ago, so i'm desperately hoping that this is the best i can do :(
> 
> on the other hand, if you're new here, i strongly suggest that you go to the first book in this series 'Age Regression is Impossible.. Right?' or you will have no literal idea what's going on so it might be weird. 
> 
> but anyways, hope y'all enjoy chapter 1!

What Peter was feeling right now, he couldn't explain even if he tried.

The past few weeks were as clear as day in his mind, along with the intense humiliation that came along with it. He remembered everything from the beginning to the end, nothing missing in between. He remembered the exact moment when he was turned into a toddler, he remembered the exact feeling of it. He hadn't been in pain, but it had felt strange. Almost as if water was gushing through every part of his body, from head to toe, drowning out all of his hearing and all of his senses. Nothing was more terrifying than seeing how short his legs were and how big everything around him was, all the while still wearing his suit.

He had the same feeling when he was turned back not even two hours ago, and once again, it hadn't hurt. It just felt strange, unnatural, and wrong. 

He remembered realising that he no longer had his powers from the spider bite, but the toddler mindset he had fallen under made him not care and he never told Tony. He suspected the man might have already known and was trying to keep it from him, anyways. Peter found that he didn't care about Tony hiding things from him. He didn't care about a lot of things when he was in that weird teenage-toddler mindset, stuck in between the two head spaces.

Never would he have thought he would be thinking like this.

He also remembered, clear as day, when he snuck away from Tony to go and scream at Captain America when he was hardly two feat tall. He supposed he should be embarrassed for quite literally abusing the Captain America, but he was so blinded by hatred and betrayal in his remarkably smaller brain that he hadn't cared what all of the adults were going to think. Captain America, his idol, had hurt his Dad and left him for dead.

Every time Peter thought about it, his eyes began to burn. He willed the thoughts away before he could burst into the tears, the knowledge of Tony's near death experience running constantly in his mind, along with everything else that occupied his brain since he had been aged back up into his normal self.

When the blinding green light had disappeared that afternoon, in that disgusting alleyway, there had been no one around him and the person he had been attempting to capture was gone. Although, he remembered every single thing right up to when Loki was there in the Compound with them, and he remembered the feeling of going under his spell. He remembered crying for Tony to pick him up and telling him he was scared, and he remembered reaching out for his father desperately. That was the last thing in his small body that he remembered.

He had woken up to Tony and May's crying faces over him, and he was sure that moment had been one of the worst in his entire life. He never wanted to see the two most important people in his life cry over him like that ever again. He never wanted to see Tony cry over him like that again.

Aside from the embarrassment, he felt surprisingly sad. His body was still trembling, tears threatening to fall, the little Iron Man toy and another one he had snagged sitting in his lap. His Spider-Suit was inside of the backpack that May had bought him, and Tony had carried around with them whenever they went out. Peter was sure there was nothing else but that suit inside of the bag. No diapers, bottles, pacifiers. Nothing that had somehow become a source of comfort to him, nothing that had become as constant in his life as Tony had been.

Peter couldn't help the blush that spread across his cheeks as he squeezed the Iron Man plushie in his hand, embarrassment being one of the most prominent emotions. He had lost control of everything, literally, even though he was still conscious of it. His emotions, bladder and bowel control, even his teenage mindset after a short while. He had been okay at the start with the last, but eventually that went away too. It was too hard. The thought of being in such a carefree state was just so appealing, and once he got a taste of it he found that he didn't want to go back. Now, he was just plagued with memories, almost wanting to go back.

It was strange, feeling that he needed to go to the bathroom but didn't do anything about it. It was almost like a little twinge, and it was gone, and moments later his lap would be warm. Now that, was embarrassing, and he swore his sanity would never be recovered from that. He was struggling to comprehend how he was going to face Tony again, although there were many reasons why. Captain America, the toddler situation, calling him... Daddy.

Of course, he had done that willingly, because that's who Tony was to Peter. A father figure. He would have liked to blame it on the fact that it was easier to say Daddy than Tony, since his toddler counterpart could not pronounce T's for the life of him. It was, of course, a reason, but only a small portion. He mostly wanted to call Tony Dad.

Though, he could not believe he had let it slip when he was a teenager.

His cheeks burned a second time, feeling a little mortified.

His mind was alight and thoughts spiralled, sitting there in the middle seat with Aunt May next to him holding his hand. It almost felt like he had been in a dream the entire time, a good dream, surrounded by love and comfort he had previously associated with May, but now Tony, too. Though, along with the good thoughts, he was constantly reminded of the diapers and pacifiers and literally everything that came with a baby. 

He remembered seeing the disgust on Tony's face, and feeling the disgust himself but then soon not caring. Pissing himself was never something that Peter would have thought he would have to go through again, let alone the... other stuff. Other stuff it made him cringe to think about. He didn't even want to think about when he had gotten sick in Malibu.

He had wanted to be a teenager again, of course he did. Queens needed him as Spider-Man, he had school, his friends. He was sure Ned had told Michelle exactly what was going on, or that May had told her, but Peter had no idea if the girl would have even believed them without seeing proof. Peter had only seen Ned when he was a toddler, and he found himself not being able to stomach the thought of anyone else but him, May, and Tony seeing him like that. Pepper, Rhodey and Happy were also an exception.

He never wanted to see the Rogue Avengers when he looked like... that.

He had been gone for a long time, and school was already staring up just next week. It was now that he realised how long he had been out of action for. God, he had homework to complete! 

But there was something prodding at his mind that always overtook the embarrassment and the sudden horror of his homework.

Tony.

He felt an overwhelming surge of emotion in his chest every time he thought about Tony, chewing on his lip as he looked out the window from where he was in the middle seat of Happy's car. It was embarrassing enough that he had managed to cling onto Tony like a koala the majority of the time when he had been a toddler, but it was even more embarrassing when he, right now, as a fifteen-year-old, was missing his Dad and still wanted to cling onto him and never let go.

Sure, he had looked up to Tony before this had happened. Yes, he had thought of his mentor as a father figure soon after the events of Germany, back when he had been brought in to fight the Avengers. But that was nothing compared to what it was like now, and Peter had no idea how to feel about anything anymore. It was so prominent that it was consuming him, and Peter found himself struggling to think about anything else but the loss of his Daddy. The shocking thing was, was that he had wholeheartedly begun to believe that Tony was his literal Dad, much like he felt towards Uncle Ben, and that a part of him was missing now that he wasn't here.

It felt a whole lot like when Uncle Ben had died, and that was the terrifying part.

Standing up after being changed back had been one of the most jarring and confusing moments of Peter's entire life. After getting used to being so short, and everything being so much bigger than him, it was strange to be taller again. He had almost forgotten how to use his feet from being carried around so much, and he was sure he still hadn't gotten the hang of being tall again. Even sitting in the seat, without the cushioned feeling of the car seat he had been put in, was disgruntling. He hated to admit that he liked the extra safety. 

Sometime during his train of thought, his hand had raised to his mouth. He only realised when some spit starting dribbling down his chin, his eyes widening and gut dropping.

May said nothing when Peter yanked his thumb out of his mouth, shoving it under his thigh incase it happened again. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment and confusion at the same time, his stomach churning uncomfortably as they began to get closer and closer to his and May's apartment. He hadn't been inside the apartment for a little while, especially not as a teenager, and he was terrified of the thought of seeing all this baby stuff lying around like at the Compound. He knew there were some things left there from his little playdate with Ned.

He unconsciously removed his hand from his thigh, and hugged the Iron Man plushie instead of raising it to his mouth, like he most likely would have done if he was still small. He clasped the plushie for the rest of the ride, now very conscious of where his hands were, keeping them occupied so his fingers didn't end up in his mouth a second time. Of course he remembered the pacifiers, and how comforting they felt. How could he forget? 

He wished he could forget the comfort that the soothers, among everything else, had brought him.

He tried to think of anything else as they pulled up in front of the apartment building, thanking Happy quietly as May took the backpack for him. He wobbled when he got out of the car, his hand shooting out to catch himself on the car door as his legs threatened to give out on him. Happy's arms had snapped out, hovering there as if Peter was about to topple over, his cheeks burning red when he caught the man's eye. Even Happy himself looked embarrassed, lowering his arms and nodding once.

Even though he had been carried around a lot when he was a toddler, he had walked (ran) quite a bit. Why did his legs feel so weak? Either way, his powers should have caught up by now.

He recovered quickly, pretending that nothing was wrong as he and May clambered up the stairs after saying their goodbyes to Happy. He found himself hesitating at the door, May eventually moving past him to unlock their apartment and head inside. Peter shuffled in after her, closing his eyes for a few seconds when he spotted the toys laid all over their living room, and a changing table in the corner. He saw May glance at the objects and then to him in the corner of his eye, but he ignored that and made a beeline for the kitchen.

"You hungry, sweetie?" May asked, setting her bag onto the counter while Peter dumped the childish backpack on one of the dining room chairs. 

"No." Peter replied, scratching the back of his neck with nerves. Why was he so nervous inside of his own home? "I'm alright, May. I might just.. uh.. take a nap or something?"

He really hadn't realised until now how tired he actually was. As if on cue, he yawned, his body swaying a little before becoming unbalanced. He fell right back onto the same chair he placed his backpack on, arms shooting out to brace himself as his spider senses tingled in his head. His reaction was slow, slower than it probably should have been. 

May was rushing over to him within seconds, hands braced on his biceps, worried eyes peering at him from behind her glasses. "Honey, is everything alright? Do you feel sick? Do we need to go back to-"

"No." Peter replied, straightening himself up with a little effort. "It's okay. I'm fine. Just tired. I might be.. adjusting?"

"Are you sure?" May asked, her thumbs now rubbing comfortingly on his muscle. "You tell me if anything feels off, alright?"

"I will. Promise." Peter smiled slightly, now gaining his balance back. "I'm going to have a shower."

"Alright."

May let him go after that, Peter disappearing into his room and into his drawers for some new clothes. He grabbed a random shirt and some boxers, before making his way into the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower for the first time in weeks felt... well, he didn't really know how it felt. Much like a lot of other things he had done as a toddler, getting baths were also comforting. But here, he didn't have a bath, and he sure as hell wouldn't be using it even if they had one. He wasn't a toddler anymore, and he was more than capable of looking after himself now. He didn't need his D- Tony to look after him anymore.

He ignored the bad taste that left in his mouth.

So, he pushed all those intruding thoughts away and started cleaning himself off under the warm water, thinking about anything but the last few weeks. Which, of course, was a struggle, because not much else had happened during his summer break. Every thought just lead back to when he had been de-aged, and the memories that tied themselves to it.

He ended up staying inside of the shower for a lot longer than he intended, dozing off while leaning against the shower glass. Eventually, May began knocking on the door, and Peter was forcing himself to get out and get dressed. He hardly noticed he forgot to bring pants of any sort, sleepily moving into the hallway where May was standing outside waiting for him. He was just in a shirt and boxers, leaning against May a little when she wrapped her arm around his waist.

"Come on." She prodded him, and began walking the short distance back to his room. Peter dragged his feet, not knowing how he had become so tired so fast, slumping right into his bed with a content sigh, turning his head into the pillow when May pulled the sheets to his chin. "Night, Peter."

"Nigh' nigh'.." Peter mumbled, eyes closed, hardly noticing when May left the room. He felt himself drift off instantly, hardly registering when something was pushed into his arms and ended up cuddling it instead. 

And with that, he fell into a surprisingly peaceful and dreamless sleep.

Though, he felt himself wake up what felt like minutes later. 

The first thing he noticed was the thing in his arms, looking down to see the Iron Man plushie secure in his embrace, like it had been so many times before. The second thing that he noticed that when he looked down, there was something in his mouth, and that something was his thumb. Again. Disorientated, Peter didn't remove it, blinking blearily around the room as he began to prop himself up. He was confused when there were no bars in front of him, and that this wasn't his room at Malibu or the Compound. He was back in his apartment. Was he dreaming?

Right then, it all came slamming back to him. He yanked his spit covered thumb out of his mouth, groaning and wiping the saliva away on his bedsheets, then rubbed the side of his head when he felt a headache beginning to come on. He had actually, wholeheartedly believed that he had still been a toddler for a few seconds...

It was at this very moment that he realised that there was an abnormal warmth around his lower half, it taking a few more moments for it to register what had actually happened. Dread filled his entire system as he looked down at his sheets, his heart practically stopping when he saw the large wet patch around his crotch area, which spread out across the material. The stench of urine seemed to become prominent as he realised exactly what had happened, tears rapidly filling his eyes as he peeled his sheets back.

The wet patch looked even bigger on the sheet covering the mattress, his boxers and the hem of his shirt damp along with it. Peter chewed on his lip to try keep his tears at bay, looking around his room. It was now dark outside, which indicated that he must have been asleep for a lot more time than he had originally intended. He tried to keep the tears in as best as he could, but his emotions seemed to not want to listen to him as he choked on a sob, his terror increasing when his hand had automatically begun to raise towards his mouth, intending to suck.

He felt so overwhelmed in that very moment that his stomach hurt, having no idea what to do now. He was terrified of going to fetch May, hardly realising that his sobs were increasing in volume the longer he stared down at the mess he had created. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to go back to normal, no strings attached to his toddler mishap.

"Dad.." Peter mumbled, searching the room as if Tony would just appear out of thin air. He would know what to do right? Dad's always knew what to do... "Dad? D-Daddy?"

And just like that, he snapped out of it, screwing his face up and burying it in his hands. God, this was not supposed to fucking happen. He shouldn't be acting like such a baby. He was fifteen, for Christ's sake! The toddler thing was merely a trick done by Thor's brother. A trick. A temporary trick. Not permanent. He wasn't two years old anymore. He didn't need Tony's help like that anymore.

This did nothing to calm him down as he began to sob even harder, coughing when his throat began to fill with spit. His nose was clogged, and he felt like utter shit. He could even begin to feel his crotch beginning to sting slightly, and some rational part of him knew he should be getting up and going straight to the shower before he got some kind of rash. But the other part of him, the dominating one, was taking over and messing up his thought process, desperately wanting for someone to come and care for him like he had become so accustomed to.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting there in his own piss bawling his eyes out until May opened the door, light from the hallway filling Peter's room and illuminating his bed. This made him cry even harder, resisting the urge to thrust his arms out in May's direction as his eyes made their way back to his piss-sodden bed. How could he have let this happen? He should have gone to the toilet before he went to bed. This should have never happened.

"Oh, sweetheart." He heard May's soothing but worried voice, his Aunt materialising at his side and clasping his hand. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. It was an accident. Your body is probably adjusting back to being big, yeah? Come on, up you get. Into the shower."

"I'm s-sorry." Peter stammered, wiping at his eyes as May helped him up. He barely repressed a whine when she took his teddy away from him, almost reaching out to take it back. If May noticed his internal struggle, she didn't say anything, setting the Iron Man stuffie on Peter's bedside table before gently leading him to the bathroom.

"No need to apologise. It wasn't your fault. Just an accident." May whispered, turning on the shower and helping Peter get his shirt off. "You have a shower. I'll get some new sheets, alright?"

Peter nodded shakily, not taking his sodden boxers off until May was out the room and the door was closed. He took another long, hot shower, trying to will himself to stop crying as he thought about Tony. He wanted Tony to be here. He always seemed to know what to do. He had known what to do when this had first happened...

Peter thumped his head lightly against the shower glass, screwing his eyes shut and let the hot water run down his body for the second time that day. The entire situation was just plain humiliating, and Peter could hardly believe that he had just literally wet the bed as a fucking teenager, and was still having thoughts of a toddler. He had called Tony Daddy, for fucks sake. 

Humiliation had never tasted so sweet.

The worst part was, that just like he had been when he was de-aged, he was switching rapidly between these two head spaces. The immense feeling of dread made his chest ache and knees shake as he stood there, trying not to drown in the embarrassment and confusion he was feeling deep in his gut. There was no way this had happened. He had to be dreaming, right? This whole thing was just a dream. He had never been de-aged. This whole thing was a dream.

Peter pinched his thigh, hoping that it would send him back into the real world where the whole de-aging thing had never happened. Though, he stayed right where he was under the shower head, trying his best not to continue sobbing like the baby he felt like. All he felt was the tiny sting of pain from his index finger and thumb pinching his skin together, nails digging in. What would Tony say if he saw him now?

With that thought, Peter turned around and shut the water off before exiting the shower, yanking a towel off of the rack and dried himself off. Realising that he hadn't brought any clothes with him, he wrapped the towel around his waist before sneaking out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom. 

Peter cringed when he saw his bed stripped off all of it's covers and sheets, some sort of cleaning product around the wet spot. His room stunk of the product, making Peter's stomach churn as he rifled through his drawers for new clothes. He grabbed his boxers, his shirt and boxers this time, not even bothering to see which shirt he had picked out before bringing it over his head. His hands were shaking when he was finished, Peter slowly moving from his room so he didn't have to look at the mess he had created any longer.

He could hear the washing machine doing it's job in the laundry, and he could hear the TV running in the living room. Peter went there, despite all his senses telling him not to because of the incoming humiliation, and spotted May sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. It was a little unusual for her not to be at work at this time, which led Peter to believe that she could be getting her shifts covered because of his dysfunctional and unbelievable life.

As if May had super senses of her own, her head whipped around to face Peter as soon as he entered the room. A sympathetic look covered her features, the woman leaning forwards to place her tea on the coffee table before opening her arms. "Come here, sweetheart."

Peter did exactly that, feeling his face crumble with a sudden pound in his chest, collapsing onto the couch and into his Aunt's arms. Right there, he broke down for the umpteenth time, feeling so confused, lost and overwhelmed that he was unable to control his emotions any longer.

And he hated the fact that crying like this reminded him so much of when he had cried endlessly as a toddler, over multiple different things.

May sat with him throughout his entire meltdown, rubbing his back and whispering things he couldn't understand in his ear. 

It took him far too long to calm down, and he was almost sent back into another endless bout of crying when his fingers had disappeared back into his mouth.

"Do you want me to call Tony?" May spoke up after a little while, the TV turned off. Peter's heart jumped considerably in his chest, panic almost overwhelming him into tears once again. "I'm sure he'd want to know what's-"

"No." Peter replied quickly, heaving in a deep breath. "He c-can't know about this. I don't want him to know."

"Alright." May whispered, continuing to rub his back. "But Peter, if this keeps happening..."

"It won't." Peter whispered, even sounding unconvincing to himself. 

"I did hear Loki mention side effects. Maybe this was what he was talking about?"

"I don't want to talk about this a-anymore." Peter whispered shakily, pressing his face into May's collarbone. "C-can we watch a movie?"

"Of course." May whispered, kissing his temple before the TV was switched back on. "What do you want to watch?"

With that, Peter was soon engrossed into the film they were watching, hardly noticing the way that he was zoning out and drifting back to sleep. His thoughts were pulled off of the movie soon after, and once again grabbed by the current situation. 

Going back to a teenager, he had expected for everything to go back to normal like the whole thing had never happened. That he could just go back to school and Spider-Man like he had never lived over a month as a toddler being cared for by non-other than Iron Man. He had thought he would be able to wipe the memories from his mind like the whole event had never happened, and would never have to think about that a literal God had used his freaky powers to turn Peter into a miniaturised size of himself.

It was still quite horrifying, really. Loki, the same alien who had tried to destroy New York all those years ago, had turned him into a toddler for his own free will. Peter still didn't know why.

It was also quite strange to think that he remembered everything from the last month and a few weeks, and not his real toddler years. He remembered everything he felt, how he threw tantrums over the most pointless of things, and how natural it felt to suck on a pacifier or use a diaper. It was one of the most scary things to think about, and he was beginning to wonder if it had been Loki's spell that had made it seem all so normal, and Loki's spell that had made him remember everything.

Also knowing that calling Tony his Dad had seemed so normal made Peter even more terrified than he already was. Calling him Dad just a few seconds after awakening from the reversal felt so right, so normal, that it hadn't registered in his head until a little while afterwards. C

"Sweetheart." May whispered, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm going to put the sheets back on your bed, alright? And a plastic cover. Just in case."

Peter tried not to react to her words, but he couldn't help but let his eyes tear up a little. Having a plastic cover on his bed was even more pathetic. 

May must have seen the look on his face, because she let out a soft sigh and kissed his forehead. "Don't stress yourself out, baby. As much as I hate to say it, but you were put under a spell by an alien, which I still can't believe by the way. No wonder your body is having a hard time. If it gets worse, we'll be calling Tony, alright? We'll figure this out."

"What about school?" Peter asked, images of wetting himself in the middle of the hallway haunting his mind. He would never live that down if that happened, and he knew he would never return to school or the Compound again.

"We don't know about that yet." May replied, standing and ruffling his hair. "We'll give it a few days. You're going back to the Compound on Friday, remember?"

"What if Da- Mr. Stark doesn't want to see me?" Peter stumbled over his words, not looking at May when he was finished.

"What do you mean? Of course he will, honey. He loves you." 

Then, she was gone.

He loves you.

Peter was once again left to dwell in his thoughts, lying down across the couch and closed his eyes in exhaustion. Crying really took a lot out of you, and having his thoughts constantly running was doing nothing to help.

Drifting off to sleep this time, he was haunted with memories and visions of what could happen in the future. Nightmares plagued his dreams, many variations of Tony rejecting him being one of the most prominent ones. Over and over until he finally fully woke up, only to be filled with humiliation and some twisted form of grief when he looked down.

By the state Peter found himself in for the second time, he wished he never woke up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i'm just going to pretend endgame never happened and live in this little universe i've created.
> 
> you'll probably get second hand embarrassment in this chapter... poor peter :( i feel bad for making him go through this 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy.

It didn't stop.

As the days passed, the so-called side effects seemed to worsen, and the more stressed out Peter became, and the more he was beginning to miss Tony, and the more he thought about what Captain America had done to his mentor.

He was constantly caught sucking on his thumbs or other fingers, constantly switching between wanting to die from humiliation and wanting to see his Daddy. He continued to wet the bed every single night without fail, and each night his bed was cleaned and his sheets were washed, and it had been a good idea for May to put the plastic cover over his mattress. He was sure it would have been soaked to the bottom by now, and even the thought of it made him want to bawl his eyes out and vomit at the same time. Another issue he was having was keeping his emotions in check, and as the days passed, it seemed to get even harder to stop himself from crying at any little thing that inconvenienced him, along with the constant stream of intruding thoughts.

Peter knew that May knew exactly what was going on with him. She couldn't be there every night because of work, but she always seemed to know that something had happened when she returned home and Peter was curled up on the couch with dried tears on his cheeks, his Iron Man plush pressed to his chest. She was always reluctant to go on her night shifts even before all of this had happened, but now even more so. She kept telling him to tell Tony, to let him know how he was feeling and that the man would want to know. Peter hasn't contacted his mentor since he was aged back up, and he wasn't planning to until Friday.

No matter how much Peter knew he should, he absolutely refused to tell Tony about what was happening. It was stupid and humiliating, and he knew it had to pass at some point, because side effects never lasted forever, right? Tony had already been stuck with him in his toddler form, and Peter was almost certain that the man would not be fond of Peter's new problems.

Somehow, he had also managed to convince May not to call Tony and tell him about recent events herself. He knew she was on a knife's edge because of his behaviour, but Peter knew he would rather die than let Tony know what was really going on in both his mind and physically. He would rather endure May's worried and concerned looks every time he entered the room and every time he was caught sucking on his fingers or doing something else his toddler counterpart used to do. 

He had no idea how he was going to see Tony just that afternoon for his weekly lab visit, his first one since he was de-aged. But to be completely honest, he really did want to go see his D- Tony. But the fear of the endless things that could possibly happen was constantly pushing him away from that, and he couldn't help but let it. Peter felt so out of it that he felt like he could no longer breathe.

Many more reactions that Peter could possibly receive from Tony filtered through his mind day in and day out, and even reactions from Ned soon mixing in when he made plans with his best friend on that Friday morning. Today.

Today, Ned was coming over, and Peter had no idea if he could stomach the thought of seeing his friend again after.. playing with him as a fucking child. The memories were so clear, so vivid, that he was trying to find a detail that he didn't remember. He almost couldn't believe that he could remember more than half of what had gone on in his toddler mindset, and he couldn't believe that his best friend had seen him like that. That he had allowed himself to go through with seeing Ned when he was like that.

He would have died if Michelle had seen him like that. Oh, God, if Flash had seen him like that. 

But if they saw him now...

Somehow, that was worse.

He had gone back to his Spider-Man duties just two days after he was brought back into his normal body, and had immediately leaped into the first crime that Karen had alerted him of. He had stopped four robberies and directed an older woman home after he had given her purse back, his mind finally being able to get distracted by his work at hand. While he was being Spider-Man, there was nothing else he had to worry about except his job. He was quite literally hiding behind his alter-ego, now, and he couldn't help but let himself feel free, even if it was only for a few hours. He felt as if he deserved it after all the drama his body had been putting him through.

There was no restraints, no actions that had anything to do with being a toddler, only the distant memory of waking up in a miniature Spider-Suit. He didn't have time to think about how his life had turned around in a matter of weeks, and how much he found he was struggling. He had been so sure that when he was aged back up, everything would go back to normal without any repercussions, or that he would completely have forgotten everything that had happened.

How naive had he been?

Although, he did wish he could forget about what he now knew about Captain America.

So, on that Friday morning, Peter had been excited. He had been absolutely thrilled. 

He had woken up to dry sheets, and without one of his thumbs lodged in his mouth. His Iron Man teddy was still secure in his arms, though, like it had been every night despite how many times Peter tried to push it away. It always somehow wormed back into his arms, even after he had thrown it out of the bed in a sudden fit of anger. He knew that just seconds after hurling it at the opposite wall, Peter got himself out of bed and picked it back up. He found himself not caring this time about the teddy, because his sheets were dry! His mind felt clear, like something had lifted from it, and he had honestly begun to believe that maybe things would be better from now on. A dry bed was a step in the right direction, wasn't it? Maybe his body was actually on it's road to recovery after feeling so relaxed?

So, with those thoughts in mind, Peter grabbed his clothes and went into the shower in a decent mood. He ate his breakfast cheerfully, before plonking himself on the couch and turning the TV on to distract himself until Ned arrived. May wasn't at home, therefore he was left to his own devices as the day began to progress. He was going to the Compound that afternoon.

He had somehow managed to completely zone out, and was only snapped out of it when there was a knock on his door. He was off of the couch immediately, all but running over to his door before he yanked it open. Ned was standing on the other side, his eyes huge as they raked Peter's body from top to bottom, his mouth hanging open slightly as he held a Lego set in his arms. "Were you always this tall?"

"Yes." Peter replied, moving to the side to let Ned through. There was now something pressing at his mind that made Peter nervous, though he ignored it as he shut the door behind his friend. "You only saw me twice, Ned. You couldn't have forgotten what I looked like."

"You were so tiny!" Ned exclaimed, placing the box on the coffee table with a soft thud before looking back at Peter, using his hands to emphasise what he was saying. "I showed MJ a picture, and even she said you were tiny! Guess what, dude, she said you were cute!"

"You showed MJ a picture." Peter deadpanned, his hands shaking slightly. He ignored Ned's last sentence, finding that it did not make his heart race like it would have before all of this had happened. It was almost like he no longer cared. 

Why was he suddenly so anxious? He had been in a good mood that morning, great even, and he in no way wanted that to be ruined. He also didn't want to let Ned know that anything was wrong, and definitely not of the events of the last few days. He let his face turn red. "Ned, that's so embarrassing! How did you even get a picture of me?"

"What?" Ned spat playfully, whacking Peter's wrist while fiddling around with his phone. Soon he was waving it around in Peter's face, and he was painfully reminded of how it had been. Ned wasn't lying, Peter had been tiny. It was a little shocking to see his little self, even though he had his real baby pictures in the apartment with him. He looked the same, the picture could have been taken years ago. But there was something different about this picture. He had never really taken the time to look in the mirror when he was so small, so he let himself take in what he had looked like as a de-aged child. "You were cute!"

"Yeah, whatever." Peter mumbled, leaning forward to grab the Lego set, knowing he would never be able to get that picture out of his head. There was now a bad feeling in his gut, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. It was something similar to what he got when he was in a toddler's body, right before... No. That couldn't be what it was. It only happened at night, and even then, he couldn't even feel it. "Let's start."

That bad feeling in Peter's gut stuck there for the entirety of Peter and Ned's Lego building session, mixing in with the nerves he felt deep in his chest as he tried to think about anything else. He could feel all the resolve he had woken up with that morning crumbling to the point that his hands were trembling when he added pieces to their creation, and if Ned noticed, he never said anything. This continued for another ten or so minutes before Peter felt his lip wobbling a little, the stress of everything coming back with a sudden force. Why was it so hard to keep control of his emotions? Why couldn't he have one, normal day, where the memories of his brief toddler life weren't tormenting him every living, breathing second?

If that had been bad, what happened next was even worse.

His lower abdomen had twinged, but he had merely pushed it away as nerves. He wish he hadn't. 

It took him a little while to register what had happened, and by the warm feeling around his crotch and the noise Ned made, he realised with what felt like a punch to a stomach what had happened. He didn't want to believe it.

Within seconds he was dissolving into tears, staring down at his damp lap in both anger and sadness, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why couldn't everything be normal again? He should have known something was up when he woke up that morning. Once again, he had been naive, and here he was sitting in his own piss next to his best friend, desperately wanting his Dad so much it made his chest ache. He was mortified that Ned was right there, witnessing this with him, seeing him wet himself like a child.

"Uh, Peter?" Ned snapped him out of his tornado of a brain, Peter slowly looking over to his friend as the tears poured out of his eyes and wet his cheeks. He had expected disgust on Ned's face, but there was that same concern Ned always wore whenever something bad happened on. Though, unlike usual, this didn't provide any comfort to Peter as he wrapped his arms across his chest, hugging himself. For a few terrifying seconds, he had melted into the clutches of his toddler-self, quietly wishing that his Daddy would come and save him. Ned was the one who snapped him out of it, yet again. "Has this been happening.. uh, often?"

Peter didn't answer for a few seconds, unable to process Ned's question. God, he was going to Tony's tonight. What if this happened while he was with Tony? 

Fuck, what if this happened at school?

"Do you want me to call May?" Ned asked when Peter never ended up answering him, complete panic washing over Peter's body at the mention of his Aunt's name. 

"No." It came out as a quiet whimper, and Peter had never felt more ashamed.

"Does this happen often?" Ned asked a second time, setting a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Peter flinched, eyes still staring down at his lap in complete horror and mortification. Peter found himself nodding rather timidly, desperately wishing that he had his teddy to hang onto, or at least something to distract his mind. How was Ned acting so cool about this? "Is it like, side effects or something? I mean, you haven't really told me much. Well, you couldn't really, you were like two and you couldn't even talk normally-"

Peter nodded his head once more, even if he didn't really know what the fuck was going on inside of his head Ned rambled on. One moment he was fine, then the next he was not. He hadn't even told Ned it was a literal alien who had taken the time out of their day just to make Peter's life hell (even though it wasn't really), or that he was having constant side effects from being a toddler for almost two months.

So yeah, Peter's mind was pretty messed up at the moment.

He slowly stood up, cringing at his wet pants as he sent a daring stare to Ned, who looked guilty. Peter could have launched himself off of a skyscraper when Ned stood up, too, the obvious wet patch on the side of the other boy's pants sticking out like a sore thumb. Ned seemed to be ignoring it, reaching out to rest his hand on Peter's shoulder. "It's okay, dude. I guess it's probably weird to shrink and lose control of everything. Don't, uh, be embarrassed. It's okay."

Peter laughed wetly, wiping his face and began to turn in the direction of the bathroom. The bathroom seemed to be the room he was always in, constantly washing away the embarrassment and tears. He couldn't believe how Ned was taking this, wondering how his friend hadn't punched him in the face for pissing on him.

"Go have a shower." Ned replied, looking strangely mature. That look did not suit Ned at all, which further induced Peter's many questions.

Peter shuffled off awkwardly, head hung low, tears still freely falling. The horror that was running through his veins made him want to vomit, his chest closing in on itself as he quickly grabbed some new clothes. He was in the shower within minutes, leaning against the glass with his head in his arms. He wanted May and he wanted Tony.

With an angry realisation, his thumb had sneaked into his mouth without his knowledge. Though, this time, he left in there in a poor attempt to self soothe, so lost in the memories of his toddler days that he didn't have it in him to take it out. It was scary that he had become so reliant on the pacifiers without even realising, and it now disgusted him. He was fifteen. He didn't need a pacifier, he didn't need any of that shit. 

Though, the thumb didn't leave his mouth, and he was in the shower for much longer than he wanted to. 

Ned left three hours later, and Peter was alone once again. It was two in the afternoon, and Happy was arriving at three. Usually, Happy would pick him up from school, but it was still summer break. Peter remembered being so excited about having the extra few hours with Tony down in the lab, but now he assumed it would never be the same. Peter was also so reliant on Tony that it was consuming him, and he had no idea how he was going to react when he saw the man again. 

Peter was quite convinced that Loki had messed with his mind somehow that was making him feel like this, and he honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was.

He ignored that thought as he hid away in his room, bag already packed, curled up in his bed with his entire body under the covers. Images of Ned telling MJ what had happened filtered through his mind, the embarrassment making his chest ache as the moment he wet himself repeated over and over in his mind. 

He hadn't realised that it was already three, and Happy would have been outside. He didn't notice until someone was knocking on his bedroom door, the door opening as Peter pushed the covers back to peek at who was entering his room.

Happy was there, sweating, eyes closed with a sigh of what seemed to be relief. "Jesus, kid. If Tony was here, he would have freaked and burned down the entire building looking for you."

Peter blinked, rubbing the side of his head. "Sorry. Guess I just... lost track of time. Um.. how did you get in?"

Happy rolled his eyes. "May gave us a key, you know."

Peter scrunched up his nose. There had to be something going on between Happy and May that Peter didn't know about. By the way Happy's eyes widened slightly and how the man was backing out of the room, he knew exactly what Peter was thinking. He didn't clarify what he meant by 'us', either. "Right."

"Come on, get your stuff. We don't want to be late, do we?" Happy snapped, then disappeared down the hallway. Peter sighed, shaking his head to shake away whatever fatigue he had gained while he had been laying there sulking, his eyes finding the Iron Man teddy squeezed between his fingers. He stared at it for a long time before getting up from his bed, shoving it in the bag along with his suit and spare clothes.

He made his way down the hall, backpack secure on his back when he found Happy by the front door, for once, not looking agitated. Strange.

The pair of them did not say a word as they made their way down the stairs, Peter sliding into the backseat of the car when Happy held the door open for him. With a quiet thanks, Happy shut the door and Peter leant against it, closing his eyes. Another thing that had been different about him lately was his sleep schedule.

The car began to move shortly after, and Happy was talking. "So, kid, how have you been?"

Peter perked his head up, feeling a little gleam of excitement that Happy wanted to talk to him. He remembered giving the man a hard time on several occasions as a toddler, but that was only because he wanted Tony to come back so badly...

"Fine." Peter replied, fingers fiddling with each other. "Ned came over."

Happy hummed and nodded, then said no more. Peter resisted the urge to fall asleep, knowing what might happen if he did, and forced his tired eyes to stay open. If Happy noticed, he said nothing, and Peter fought his internal battle the entire way to the Compound. Though, the excitement of seeing Tony again was getting him through the intense exhaustion.

When they reached the Compound, the alien spaceship stuck out like a sore thumb. Peter had no idea what was going on inside of that ship, or how long it would be staying there. If he was honest, he was kind of terrified of being in the same vicinity as Loki. Thor wasn't so bad, but Loki was on a whole other level. Just looking at the ship made Peter want to run and hide, trying not to remember when Tony had been terrified the Hulk would hurt them.

Peter hadn't even been scared in the slightest. The Hulk was cool.

Being back at the Compound just reminded Peter of when the Rogues had returned. When he had found out that Captain America, one of his lifetime idols, had almost killed his Da- Tony. This thought made his gut churn uncomfortably with nerves and guilt, unsure why he was feeling the second. He had been so naive back in Germany...

There were so many things he had done as a toddler than he hadn't put as much of a thought to yet, and it was like a weight lodged in his brain, making him feel heavy and burdened. He did remember wailing whenever he was separated from Tony, he remembered playing with toys like he did it on a daily basis. He remembered the separation anxiety, and he knew it wasn't gone just yet. He had forced it into the very back of his mind, ignoring it, trying to ignore the desperate longing and panic that always came with thinking about his Dad.

He pushed it away when they entered the garage. Peter was smacked in the face with the memory of Tony kissing his head just by the lift, and he remembered seeing how sad the man looked and how excited Peter had felt to get the gesture. He remembered how he wanted to stay, how the separation anxiety pulled at his mind and made him want to panic. He had no idea how he was going to hold back the thousands of new memories he had once he was back here, how he would repress them like he had been doing. Oh, how desperately he wanted things to go back to normal, and for that spaceship to be gone, for everything to be gone.

Peter began to wonder that maybe, remembering everything was the worst thing that could have happened. If he didn't remember every single little detail, maybe he would be a functional, fifteen-year-old boy who had a side job of Spider-Man. Maybe he wouldn't think so much.

Peter had been so zoned out and deep in his thoughts that he hadn't been paying attention when Happy opened the door. His body sagged to the side a little painfully as the seatbelt held him back, the action finally bringing his mind back into his body. He shot up, alert, shaking his head to clear all the unwanted thoughts away for the time being. He was out of the car within seconds, walking over to the lift with Happy by his side. He pretended not to notice the man's arm around his shoulder, guiding him toward the lift because Peter had begun to stumble.

The ride up to the lab gave Peter so much anxiety he kept finding himself raising his hand to his mouth, ending up with him fisting his jeans with both hands to keep them from raising. Happy kept giving him looks, and Peter was even more mortified to find a little bit of concern somewhere in his gaze. He ignored it, staring at his panicked reflection in the mirror all the way until the lift dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the lab that Peter hadn't been in for a long, long time. FRIDAY hadn't spoken to them inside of the lift.

It didn't take long for Peter to spot Tony, and the surge of panic that came with it almost made him double over. It was then, when he realised, how much he actually had missed being around and so close Tony every day. It took everything in Peter not to run over to his mentor, fisting his jeans so tight the material threatened to rip. Gathering his composure, he did nothing that his thoughts were desperately telling him to do, instead letting Happy guide him over with a gentle hand.

Tony was in the far corner, an Iron Man suit strung up by some weird contraption that Peter hadn't seen before, the man barely visible behind it. All Peter could see was the man's bare arm, and by the state of the armour, it looked like one of the older suits. Since Peter had shamefully memorised every suit during his life, he suspected it was the one that came from a suitcase. Peter wondered why Tony was working on the old suit, when he had that nanotech one coming up... 

Peter's heart raced as if it were trying to break out of his chest as they walked over to his mentor, Happy getting one of the bots to poke Tony in the shoulder. Tony was so wedged between the suit and the wall, it looked like he wouldn't be able to get back out, his body covered in grease and sweat. 

Tony jumped when DUM-E's metal claw made contact with his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing in the direction of the bot as if he was about to yell. As he opened his mouth to do so, he noticed that Happy and Peter were there, and seemed to splutter instead. Peter had to hold in his guilt when he got a good look at Tony's face, not liking the huge bags under his eyes or the paleness to his skin. To his horror, his eyes began to burn, and he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from bawling right there and then. Why he wanted to cry so bad all of a sudden, he literally had no idea, but all he knew was that he didn't want to leave when their lab visit was over. Distinct memories of clinging onto Tony so hard his shirt had ripped was the only thing in his mind as he looked at his mentor, trying his very hardest not to let it all spill out.

He wasn't a baby anymore. There was no excuses if he broke down right now, clung onto his Daddy for dear life, told him everything that was happening to him. He couldn't even be carried anymore, and Peter felt disgusted in himself for wanting that back. He hadn't even been a baby, he had been in his conscious mind the majority of the time.

He wanted it.

"Oh, hey Petey." Tony spoke up, his voice sounding a little shaky, a wobbly smile appearing on the man's face as he began shuffling out from behind the suit. DUM-E scurried away with what Peter thought was happy beeps, rolling all the way to his corner with U. The bots began circling around each other, as if they were playing, Peter finding a little comfort in that. The comfort disappeared when he realised he wanted to join in on their fun, feeling like he was missing out.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Distracted momentarily by the bots, he hadn't noticed that Happy had left the room or that Tony had moved, now standing in front of him. He was snapped out of his robot-thoughts when two hands were laid on his shoulders, the touch so gentle and so familiar it made Peter's facade want to break yet again. He had missed physical contact so much it hurt. 

Peter's face was lifted up by a finger under his chin, Peter looking up to see Tony craning his head down a little to look right into Peter's eyes. He had seen that look of worry many times before, now. It also looked like Tony was taking him in, as if he wasn't used to seeing Peter like this. Peter didn't know how to feel, knowing that Tony had grown used to the toddler version of himself, just like he had. It had been so jarring to be tall again.

Peter knew there must have been something showing on his face from the way Tony was looking at him, the man worrying his lip as he leant back a little, removing his finger. This made Peter nervous, his own hands moving to fiddle with each other. He could not be caught sucking on his thumb right now, even though he so desperately wanted to comfort himself.

"How're you holding up?" Tony asked him, his thumbs gently massaging Peter's shoulders, just to the side of the backpack straps. It was taking everything in Peter not to launch himself into his Daddy's arms, having grown not used to being nearly as tall as him again, not being in his arms receiving endless cuddles. "Any issues? Side effects? Anything we could take you to Bruce to check out?"

Peter's heart lurched at the thought of Bruce Banner checking him over. He remembered telling Tony no, that he didn't want to be checked over by the scientist, though it had not been because of the man himself. He was terrified of doctors, any sane person would realise that. Even now, he hated being anywhere near medical things after everything that had happened in his life, but he forced himself to hide it all. Peter knew he should tell Tony what was going on. He might be able to fix it. Tony could get Loki in here to fix it, if that was even possible... 

But did Peter ever listen to his conscience? 

No, he did not.

So, he bit his tongue and lied.

"No. I'm fine, Mr. Stark."

Tony looked at him for a few more seconds, as if he were debating whether or not they should hug, and Peter decided to take the chance while it was there. There might not be another time where the opportunity presented itself, because somewhere deep in Peter's mind, he was so sure that something bad was going to happen sooner or later and he would lose everything. He would slip up and everything would be sent into panic mode, and he would lose Tony in the midst of it. He didn't know if he could stand it if that happened, and knowing the way his thought process was going right now, he would probably go insane.

He wrapped his arms around Tony's torso, burying his face in his neck with a deep but shaky sigh. He felt Tony hesitate, before the man's arms too wrapped around Peter's shoulders. There was some unspoken agreement that came with the hug, Peter reminiscing in the endless hugs he had gotten from Tony when he was tiny, when it didn't matter like it did now. He was never going to admit it, but that had been one of his favourite parts about the whole de-aging thing, and that had been another thing he had been craving.

They said nothing, and soon they were peeling apart, Peter trying desperately not to let his fingers find their way to his mouth for the umpteenth time that day. Pissing himself in front of Ned was still playing in repeat in his mind, and he had to remind himself to go to the toilet before that happened again. If it happened again.

God, Peter couldn't believe that it had actually happened. It almost felt like a nightmare.

Sure, Ned and Peter had seen each other in all different ways, ever since they were kids. Because of course, kids didn't care, he understood that now. But nothing like this had never happened before, and he couldn't believe it. Why had his body decided to fuck him over then?

Once again, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tony's voice.

"Did you bring your suit?"

Peter nodded, pulling his backpack off of his shoulders before opening it, paling when the Iron Man teddy came tumbling out onto the lab floor. He looked up for Tony's reaction immediately, who was just staring down at the teddy with a... mournful look on his face? This just made Peter's gut feel heavier as he hastily reached down to grab the stuffed toy, shoving it into his bag and trading it for the suit. He handed the suit to Tony without a word, the man not mentioning it as he took the thing from him. The saddened look didn't leave his face.

This whole situation just felt awkward.

"So, how was your first time back as Spider-Man?" Tony spoke up a few seconds later, and in the blink of an eye, that sad look was wiped from his expression as if a switch had been flicked. Peter rubbed his face a little, shuffling over to his own desk where there had been some objects spread across it. He was curious as to what they were, the tip of his index finger poking at his lower lip as he looked down at the objects. "Suit work alright?"

"Yeah, good." Peter replied, distracted by the tools on his desk that suspiciously looked like robot parts. Maybe the web-fluid could wait. "I don't think Loki's done anything bad to it. Karen seems to think it's alright. But I did have a little issues with the web shooters."

"I'll take a look at them." Tony replied almost instantly, Peter looking up at the man to see him with the suit inside out already, fiddling around with some of the wires. "When's school back, hm?"

"Monday." Peter mumbled, plonking down in his seat and fiddled with some of the metal, the curiosity never leaving his brain. "What's all this?"

"Just some spare parts I had lying around." Tony replied, not missing a beat. "Thought you might be able to make something from it."

It was as if Peter being turned into a toddler had never happened.

Peter didn't answer, already making a mental picture of the robot he could build. All toddler-behaviour worries aside, he began fiddling with some of the pieces, a grin spreading across his face when he realised there was suspiciously everything there he needed to create a small robot. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, and the first time he had made an actual working one, it had been inside of Tony's lab. All the ones he had made at school had failed, or had been destroyed by Flash.

They worked in silence for around an hour before Peter's gut, or more so his bladder, twinged, and that was the only alert he got. He shot up from his seat in record time, barely registering that this was what it used to be like when he was a toddler, making his way to the bathroom connected to the lab as quickly as he could without making it seem so obvious. 

He hardly made it, and Peter had wondered when it had come to this.

Yesterday, he was only worried about sucking on his thumb and wetting the bed. 

He did his business, washing his hand and stared at himself in the mirror. There had been something different in his face the entire time since he had been aged back up, but he could never figure out what it was. It was almost as if he appeared... younger somehow? Though he was the same height and had already hit puberty, just like he had been before Loki appeared to mess up his life. He had no idea why he felt so different, and why he looked like something had changed when he was literally the same.

Nothing had ever sounded more confusing.

He shuffled out of the bathroom, hoping Tony hadn't noticed his mad scramble to the toilet. To his disappointment, Tony was looking at him with raised eyebrows, and Peter had now spent enough time around the man to see the underlying look of concern etched into his features. Everything still felt quite awkward between them, and this was only escalating that feeling. 

"Everything alright, Pete?" Tony asked, his hands having paused at whatever he was doing to Peter's suit. Peter fiddled with his hands, making his way over to his desk as quickly as he could.

"Yeah, fine." Peter replied, feeling like he was saying that four letter word too often. "I'm okay, Mr. Stark."

Tony didn't look like he believed him, but seemed to let it slide anyways.

Peter sat down at his desk, where his robot was being developed, happily patting DUM-E's claw when the robot slid up next to him, beeping happily and poking at the miniature robot. Peter began to feel a little excited by the bot's company, slowly letting himself slide a little into a happier mindset as he worked on making DUM-E another friend. He swore he sat like that for hours until Tony was tapping him on the shoulder, causing Peter to look up.

"Happy's here, buddy." Tony said, sounding a little detached. His face was blank, though his eyes said it all. Was Tony sad that... that Peter was leaving? "You can finish your robot next Friday. You're coming next Friday, right?"

To Peter's confusion, Tony suddenly sounded scared. As if Peter wouldn't come back, as if he needed the reassurance.

"Of course I will, D- Mr. Stark." Shit. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Just making sure. See you then, kiddie." Tony ruffled his hair, looking affectionate. Peter smiled in return, standing from his table and taking the suit from Tony when it was offered to him. He pushed it back in his backpack, ignoring that the Iron Man teddy, along with the spare clothes he packed, could easily be seen when he un-zipped his backpack. He covered it with the suit, and soon Happy was arriving only to be leaving again, but this time with Peter in tow.

Peter went home feeling sad, trying so hard not to cry when he said goodbye to Tony. There was something so appealing about throwing a fit like he used to, though he'd rather die than do that as a teenager.

So, he composed himself, and pretended like his heart wasn't pounding because he was leaving his father behind.

He wished he could have stayed with his Daddy.

No, his name was Mr. Stark. Tony.

Dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will never be the same after endgame. that movie ruined my entire life wbk.
> 
> don't comment spoilers if you've seen it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little later than usual oops
> 
> i'm still reeling from endgame... don't talk to me

Monday came up a lot faster than Peter would have liked.

The last two days, had quite frankly, been hell. It was almost as if seeing Tony again had been a reminder of what he had lost, and had therefore sent his brain into a spiral of madness and anxiety. As soon as he had gotten back from the Compound, he had broken down into a sobbing fit for no apparent reason. Peter understood May's confusion when he began bawling as soon as the door was shut, because he too was confused as to why he was crying so viciously. 

And since then, everything had been turned on it's head even more than before.

It was currently three in the morning, and Peter was laid in his bed staring up at the bunk above him, thumb lodged in his mouth, a pathetic attempt to self soothe. His Iron Man teddy was secured in his free arm, the covers pulled up to his chin, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He had slept for what felt like ten minutes before he was woken up by nightmares, which he hadn't really had throughout the whole toddler experience. Maybe once or twice, from memory, but he had no idea if his memory was really his memory anymore. It was hard to believe that he had been so.. clingy? That he had called Tony his Daddy? That he literally had, and probably still had, separation anxiety? That he had punched Captain America in the shins?

Despite those thoughts, it felt all too real for it to be some memory conjured by Loki. And now, here he was, unable to sleep and on the brink of insanity. He was terrified of the day coming for him, and he was terrified of all of the possible outcomes. He could be caught sucking on his thumb, crying, or fucking pissing himself. There were so many outcomes of what could possibly happen to him that it was giving him a headache, which was adding onto his sleep deprived state. 

In between of all of that, was the longing for Tony. It felt like someone had gotten a knife and cut his heart in two, stealing one of the halves and leaving the other behind, and no matter how cliche that sounded, it hurt. He missed Tony so much it was consuming him, and it suspiciously resembled what he had felt so many times when Tony would leave him and he would scream at the top of his lungs, trying to worm away from whoever was holding him. When he had gone to stay with May, he had constantly worried what Tony was doing and where he was, if he was okay. When he left to go in that spaceship, to speak to the Rogues. It was almost as if his experience as a child again had heightened his previous feelings, because of course he had missed D- Tony before. But nothing compared to this.

He even remembered clinging onto Pepper, desperately trying to get her to stay, not to leave him. He still felt it, he still felt that longing to be with both Tony and Pepper, but what he felt towards Pepper was nothing compared to how badly he felt it for Tony. Peter hadn't seen Pepper since the day he was aged back up, and he was sure she was once again out of the state or even the country for something Stark Industries related.

The ferry incident was still fresh, and would be for months to come. The de-aging incident was just another to add on the list, and would be unable to forget for a long time. How would a person have the experience to come back from something so bizarre? Of course, out of all people Loki could have chosen, he chose Peter. Peter didn't even know if Tony knew why, and even if he did, Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

But all he knew, was that he was struggling, a lot. Sleep deprived. Had separation anxiety. Constantly experiencing toddler behaviour that he shouldn't be experiencing. Who would've thought?

And just by the signs on Tony's face, he could see that the older man had sleep deprivation, too.

He hadn't looked so much like that, when he was looking after Peter. He had before all of this happened, and Peter was beginning to wonder with dread if it was his fault. He knew that Tony wasn't a good sleeper, or eater, or good anything. He hated the thought that Tony was changing his behaviour because of Peter...

Out of all of these thoughts, coming to terms with what was happening was the most terrifying. So what was he doing? 

The complete opposite.

Peter rolled onto his side, sucking so aggressively on his thumb that it hurt a little, screwing his eyes shut and willing for sleep to take over him. He tried for a solid second before groaning, rolling onto his other side and buried his face into the pillow, letting a few tears force their way out. He could not fucking stand crying all the time! As a toddler, it felt normal to scream at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason. But right now, he wanted to do anything but cry. But for some reason, his brain would not have it. 

After another few moments of trying to force himself to sleep, he gave up and rolled back onto his back, removing his thumb from his mouth with a pop. He worried his lower lip with his teeth instead, hugging his plushie with both arms as he let the tears fall. He felt so frustrated that he could hardly contain it, the conflicting emotions confusing him and resulting in a big explosion inside of his brain. He missed Tony, he missed being around him all the time and having the man care for him. But at the same time, he knew he shouldn't be feeling this way, and that it would pass at some point. 

He glanced at the clock, closing his eyes for a few seconds and letting a puff of air out of his nose when he read the time, letting go of the plushie and threw his hands over his face. Three forty-eight.

He had no idea how long he laid in that position, trying not to scream in frustration, hands over his face and eyes screwed shut. He listened to the sounds outside, his sensitive hearing picking up voices, cars and trucks, along with the occasional motorbike. The sounds from outside had always been soothing to Peter, but once he had been de-aged and lived in the Compound and Malibu, it had been so quiet. He had become used to the silence, and now his sensitive hearing was proving against him tonight.

After a few more long minutes of hiding behind his hands, Peter removed them from his face and rolled back onto his side. He grabbed the Iron Man stuffie, smushing it against his cheek and inhaled it's scent, which was distinctly recognisable as Tony's. More tears leaked from his closed eyes as his hands began to tremble, the longing for his Daddy just intensifying as the minutes went by.

But as Peter usually did, he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried yet again to fall asleep.

Though this time, he finally managed to fall into a deep and dreamless slumber. It one again felt like he had been asleep for a minute when he was woken up by May, who had a saddened look on her face. Peter could feel it, and knew exactly why she looked like that. He had wet the bed. Again.

"Are you sure you want to go back to school, honey?" May had whispered, sitting down on the side of his bed, away from where the pee was definitely seeping into the sheets. She ran her hand through his curls comfortingly, Peter letting his eyes close again for a few more moments. He was exhausted. "I think it's maybe time that we tell Tony what's going on. I don't like this, baby, and I know he would want to know. He would help you, honey. He wouldn't hate you, I don't know why you think he will. I want you to get checked out. What if something is wrong?"

"No." Peter whispered, sitting up, trying to push away the memory of wetting himself somewhere that wasn't his bed for the second time. He had been in the kitchen, half asleep, and it had just happened. It had taken him three hours to calm down, and then another two after that convincing May that he was fine and that there was no need to call Tony, even though he was the person he so desperately wanted to see. "No D- Mr. Stark. I'm fine."

"But, sweetie, you're not." May whispered, still running her hand through his hair even though he was sitting up. "What if something happens at school? What if there's something going on in your body that we can't see? Don't you want to make sure?"

"Nothing's gon' happen." Peter mumbled, keeping his eyes closed for a few more moments. He didn't want to sit in his piss any longer. "I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay." May sighed, sounding a little put out. "I won't be angry if you don't go to school, Peter. You're recovering from something that no one should have to recover from. I also know you miss Tony."

He wasn't really recovering, but he wasn't about to say that. "I'm fine, May. I'll be okay."

May nodded a few times, before standing up and leaving the room with a quiet, "I'll clean your sheets."

Peter took a little while to get motivated, though soon he was in and out of the shower and having his breakfast. His heart raced the entire time, lacking his appetite as his stomach churned with nerves. He forced himself to eat, knowing his metabolism needed it, and refused to acknowledge how much his stomach was actually hurting. He was so terrified of the possibilities of today that it was eating him from the inside out, and he was desperately hoping that Tony would magically appear to save him, to take him back to Malibu despite how deathly scared he was of planes. He wanted to go back to the beach, where everything was calm and people weren't there to see him.

He packed his backpack after breakfast, having stood there staring at his Iron Man teddy in his hand for far too long. He refused to acknowledge the complete shame and mortification he felt when he shoved it to the bottom of his backpack, on top of his suit which was covered with a spare jacket. 

His stomach churned all the way to the subway after May kissed his forehead goodbye, and all the way to school. He had his earphones lodged in his ears, a small stress ball he had fished out of one of his drawers in one of his hands to keep it from entering his mouth, his other hand holding his phone. With both hands occupied, there was one less thing to worry about. The next was his bladder, and after that was his emotions.

He had texted Ned beforehand to meet him out the front of the station, and he had done exactly that. Ned was standing right where Peter hoped he would have, a big smile appearing on his best friend's face when he saw Peter. Peter found himself smiling shakily back, quickly engaging in their handshake when he was in reach. During doing so, Ned was already asking questions.

"Are you okay? You're really pale." He had asked, concern taking away that carefree smile. "Have you still got the erm.. side effects?"

Peter looked at his feet as they walked, ashamed and uncomfortable. "Yes."

"Should you really be at school? Have you told Tony?" Ned whispered, for once, keeping his voice down when it meant the most. "If you're feeling sick you shouldn't be here."

"I'm fine." Peter replied, squeezing the stress ball in his fist. "I'm okay. I don't feel sick."

"You're not." Was Ned's next answer, causing Peter to frown a little. "I can tell when you're lying, Peter."

"Okay, maybe I'm not." Peter grumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before continuing. "But there's nothing else I can do about it now but move on. It'll pass eventually, and I'll get over it."

"Yeah, I get that." Ned replied, and Peter could feel his friend staring into the side of his head. "But you were literally a toddler! Your body is obviously still affected by that. I think you should tell-"

"You don't think I know that?" Peter snapped quietly, and maybe a little too harshly. "I can't tell Mr. Stark."

"Why not?" Ned asked, sounding a little put out himself. "He looked after you while you were a baby. I would think he'd like to know what's going on with you. He's literally your Dad now-"

Peter sent a sideways glare to Ned, trying to ignore the emotion bubbling up in his chest when Ned called Tony his Dad. They were quickly approaching their school, and it was something that was making Peter squeeze the stress ball harder and harder in his clenched fist. Ned hadn't said anything else after Peter had ignored his last words, the two quietly walking beside each other right up until they walked into the school.

Peter was constantly looking around, his eyes surveying the entire scene in front of him, hands shaking and senses buzzing. He felt uncomfortable around the amount of people now, feeling as though everyone was looking at him and knew exactly what he was thinking, knowing exactly what had happened to him over the summer break. He was terrified of crying in public, or wetting himself, or even worse, calling out for his Daddy like he had always done when he was scared.

He made it to his locker without many issues, keeping his freak out in his head as he began gathering books for his first class. Math, of course.

He had been on the road to calming down until his senses began to alert him of incoming danger, and he had to jump back from his locker door when it was slammed shut or else he would have a nice concussion to add onto his multiple problems. He hugged his books to his chest, completely aware of the teddy in his backpack as his eyes met Flash's. It was a little strange seeing Flash again after so long, and his chest ached to know that he was feeling utterly terrified of the boy. He hadn't felt like this since they were in elementary school...

"Hey, Penis." Flash sneered, Peter's senses warning him of something else coming. Seconds later, Flash was shoving his shoulder, a smirk on his face. "We heard that Stark had a kid. Have you met him, hm, Penis? You two seem to have matching names."

Peter had completely forgotten about the media somehow finding out his name, and this erupted so much terror inside of Peter's chest that he wanted to scream, his hands beginning to shake so much he had to hug his books even tighter, just to make them stop. He knew that it must be online, it had to be online. The whole world would know about it by now.

How could he have forgotten something so major?

"Piss off." Peter mumbled, turning around and attempting to walk away. His senses warned him just as his backpack was yanked back, bringing his body with it, panic flaring up in his chest when he thought Flash might open the zips to find both the toy and the Spider-Suit. Relief was flushed through his veins when Flash let go.

"Grew some balls over the break, hm?" Flash asked, backing away from Peter and leaned on his locker instead. Peter felt Ned tug on his sleeve. "What happened to the pathetic little twerp? Did seeing your sugar Daddy with another kid making you jealous?"

Peter's stomach curled with disgust, though he decided not to say anything despite the thought that it would make everything worse. He was squeezing the stress ball so tight in his fist that he thought it might explode, but also ignored that thought. He turned around, ignoring the fact that he hadn't locked his locker after Flash had slammed it on him, knowing that for a fact he would find something in there later. He could see Ned following him in the corner of his eye, though he never looked back until they got to their assigned classroom. MJ was the first face that Peter saw.

She looked bored as usual, her eyes moving from her book to see the two boys walk in. Peter watched her eyebrows raise as if it were in slow motion, Peter suddenly feeling the panic rush back into him when he realised that the girl knew what had happened to him. Even if Ned hadn't have told her, Peter was pretty sure she would have figured it out. Of course she knew about Spider-Man and Peter knowing Tony. It was no coincidence that Tony Stark's supposed child was, allegedly, called Peter, and that Peter had disappeared for the entire summer break.

He still couldn't believe that his name had made it out into the public. Now that he had been reminded of the fact, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Another problem to add onto Peter's long, long list, and he found himself becoming more stressed as the seconds ticked by. He hadn't even done any of the homework that was assigned for him over the summer break.

Still, he masked his thoughts in what he hoped was a convincing way, and sat down on the table next to MJ's. Ned sat on the one next to Peter's, and soon more students were filling the room. Each one seemed to look directly at Peter when they walked in, which made Peter feel even more uncomfortable than he had before. There were so many reasons why his classmates could be looking at him like that.

As he waited for his teacher to enter the room, his thoughts began to drift off to that long list of problems that had formed inside of his brain.

The bedwetting problem.

Peter was terrified of the thought of wetting himself at school. He had begun to get a grasp of when he needed to go, which he had been aware of as a toddler, but had hardly paid any mind to it because he wasn't looking for it. When he was a child, it had just happened, and Tony and May had been there to clean it up for him. But right now, back in his big body, he was still having those issues and couldn't afford to have it in such a public place. As a teen, unlike it had been before all of this had happened, all he got was a twinge in the bladder to tell him it was urgent. He never even tended to notice until that very feeling.

It was mortifying.

Sometime during his thought, his hand had begun to sneak up to his mouth. His index finger was prodding at his lower lip when he realised, sheer panic washing over his body as he yanked it away. He looked around the room for any kind of reaction, but nobody was looking at him or paying any attention anymore. Ned was doodling in his book, MJ was still reading and looked up when he had looked over at her, the roll of her eyes telling him that she hadn't seen. No one else in the class seemed to be looking.

At least it wasn't his thumb.

His teacher had chosen that precise moment to walk into the room. With that, Peter was forced to cut off those thoughts and pay attention to the class unfolding around him, only making it halfway through the lesson before realising that his thumb on his left hand had been sneaking up to to his mouth as he wrote out math problems his teacher had been writing on the board. He had not looked up from his work, deciding to grip onto the side of his desk to refrain from sucking on his thumb.

It was humiliating to find out that he had begun sucking on the top of his pen instead.

The morning ran smoothly, Peter mostly keeping to himself and not interacting as much as he usually would have. He was still aware of some of the looks some students were giving him in the halls and during classes, which caused him to sweat constantly as he went to the toilet a total of four times during the first three classes. He knew Ned and MJ had to have noticed, but he decided to stop looking at them each time he came back. No matter how much he knew he should, he didn't want any more people to know. Especially not Tony.

He also had been pretending that the toddler wants and needs were circulating around his heads like clockwork, ignoring a certain five letter word turning up the most. He could hardly believe he was mourning the loss of those stupid pacifiers, and the amount of times he had gone to suck on something. Come on, he hadn't been de-aged for that long. 

Despite how many times over the past few days he had told himself that, it never sunk in or became a fact. He had been a toddler for a long time, and his mind and body had gotten way too used to it. He had very little control of everything now, as had been made very clear ever since he got home from the Compound the day he was aged up. He couldn't even remember what day it had been.

So, when it came to lunch time, after his fifth toilet break, Peter slunk into the cafeteria with stress ball in hand. He had been hoping everything would be normal, but of course, who would he be to think such a naive assumption?

It took a total of ten seconds before Flash appeared, prancing around with his friends that hovered around him like flies, desperate to be something resembling worth in Flash's eyes. Peter didn't understand how anyone could want to be Flash's friend of all people, regarding how he treated everyone else, but somehow they all wanted to be just like him. Peter disliked the lot of them, Flash the most. Flash had never liked them, ever since they were kids, so Peter had long become used to it.

But now, the thought of Flash coming over to taunt him was filled with so much more dread and possibilities of terrible outcomes. He wished he could hide somewhere just to escape the boy, though that was pretty much impossible. Flash was everywhere.

"Penis Parker!" Flash hollered, Peter catching the exact moment Flash noticed the stress ball in his hand. "Feeling a little stressed are we, little baby?"

Peter felt his stomach churn. The pet name was far too close to home than he would have liked it to be, and felt disgusting coming from Flash. He was very well aware of the times that Tony had called him by that pet name, when he was, literally, a baby. Much like everything else, Peter had drawn the comfort from the pet name like a sponge, and hearing the word uttered by his bully just made his insides want to come out through his mouth and onto the floor.

In conclusion, hearing the pet name just reminded him even more of Tony, which sparked the anxiety pooling in his stomach. He wanted his Dad. 

Peter ignored the bully, grabbing his tray of food before heading towards his usual table. Ned and MJ were already there, seemingly in heated discussion, having beaten him there because of his need to pee. Well, he hadn't really needed to go. But of course, paranoia had gotten the best of him, and the countless memories were beginning to haunt him so constantly that he just needed to go, just to free himself from the thoughts.

He sat down opposite his two friends, placing his tray in front of him and leant on his left elbow, chin in hand. Ned and MJ didn't pay much him any attention as they argued across from him, seeming so intent on their argument that they weren't going to include Peter anytime soon. What they were arguing about, Peter had no idea nor cared, and was quite happy to sit back and clench the stress ball tight in his fist shaking fist, wishing he was anywhere but here. He wasn't hungry, and the tray in front of him went untouched. He didn't even drink some of the water.

He would regret that later.

He felt as if there were eyes always on him, just waiting for him to slip up and embarrass himself. He was constantly on a knife's edge, hands always trembling and mind wandering to places it shouldn't. Now that he was at school, around so many people after so long, everything was ten times worse. The fear that he was going to piss himself in public was amplified by a thousand, and it stressed him out to no end. No matter how hard he tried, he was never able to forget about it, and the thought was always hanging constantly in the back of his mind even when he was distracted by something else. 

The rest of his day, surprisingly, ran smoothly. Flash cornered him a few more times, spat some insults, then left. It was pretty normal, so Peter brushed it off. He kept going to the bathroom. He kept having to catch himself from sucking on fingers or thumbs or pens. He had to stop the want for his Dad from arising too far before it became unmanageable and brought him to tears. He had never thought about keeping his emotions so in check before, but after being able to cry freely over the littlest of things, it seemed to be all he wanted to do.

Going home on the subway was fine. Walking into his empty apartment was fine. If anyone told you that he pulled his Iron Man teddy out of his bag as soon as he got home, they're lying. If they told you he went to the toilet for the umpteenth time that day, they were lying. He was not a nervous wreck. Totally not.

He had tried to watch a movie to pass the time, completely ignoring the homework that was building up on top of his missed holiday homework. He was never able to keep his mind on task, always drifting off to something else and was distracted from the movie. So, instead of sitting around trying to force himself to pay attention, he stripped and dressed back up into his suit. Karen's voice had never sounded so beautiful until that moment. Finally, a real and definite distraction. Helping people.

"Hello, Peter. How are you doing today?" Karen had said, her animatronic voice echoing around Peter's head as he wrote a quick note for May. 

"Great." He lied, distracted as he stuck the sticky note onto the fridge where May would definitely see it. "Any crime for me to stop?"

"I am detecting a robbery occurring in..." Peter half-listened to Karen as he opened his bedroom window, shamefully sending a last glance to the plushie sitting innocently on his newly-cleaned bed before hurling himself out of the room. He followed Karen's instructions, finding a few idiots trying to break into some jewellery store in the heart of Queens. Peter took no time in webbing them up and having Karen call the police, and was off of the scene within minutes.

Peter ended up staying out right up until his curfew, completely on accident, and found himself desperately webslinging his way back to the apartment. He rolled into his bedroom just as May opened the door, pulling his mask off and sent an innocent smile in his Aunt's direction, his stomach churning from the overexertion and lack of food. 

May, surprisingly, didn't seem very disapproving of his antics, her face instead morphing into concern as her hand raised to run a hand through his hair. Peter was a little confused, furrowing his eyebrows and let the smile fall from his face. Immediately, as if it had been instinct, he placed his thumb on his lower lip due to the nerves. He didn't remove it.

"Did everything go okay at school today, honey?" May asked, removing her hand from his hair and grasped his hand instead. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Peter replied, smiling very slightly. "Nothing happened."

May smiled back, though it seemed a little strained. Her eyes didn't crinkle in the corners like they usually did when she smiled genuinely. "That's good, baby. Have you eaten?"

Peter shook his head. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and by the way his stomach was hurting, he needed to eat. He almost wanted to double over in pain, but he ignored that need and also focussed on not crying. Why on earth he was feeling ready to bawl his eyes out so suddenly was almost comical to Peter, but he forced all that away and let May drag him into the kitchen.

After Peter was fed, he was sent back into his room. Peter went without fight, staring at the mound of homework that he had placed on his desk before he left. He slowly got undressed, hanging his suit on his desk chair before his eyes found the homework once again. He could almost feel the stress, a different kind of stress to what he was already feeling, creeping up on him just from looking at the books, knowing that he should be sitting in that chair he had just hung his Spider-Man suit on. He walked over to the stack, running his hands along the top textbook, just reading the words on the cover making him anxious.

After a few moments, he turned around and left it where it was. 

He rifled through his drawers for a new shirt instead, once again not putting pants on like he had been doing a lot lately. Moments later, he flicked his light off so only his lamp was on, half of the room falling into darkness. He hurried over to his bed, sliding underneath the covers and pulled them to his chin, bringing his stuffie to his side with one arm as the other's hand went straight to his mouth. He couldn't even stop himself now, he had been dying to feel comforted the entire day and couldn't even stop himself. 

Now that he was lying in his comfortable bed like this, the exhaustion really kicked in. His eyes drooped immediately, Peter not even having the energy to roll over at flick off his lamp. He sucked furiously on his thumb, trying not to think about where he would rather be. He missed Tony, and he hated not being around the man every day. He had become so accustomed to it that it hurt.

He fell asleep on the thought.

He woke up the next morning with a wet bed and tear stained cheeks. 

Life couldn't have been any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm curious  
> how old do you think i am based on how i write?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing to say but sorry for being late

Friday came around quick.

Quicker than Peter had anticipated, and he was hardly making it through the week.

If his symptoms could get any worse, they significantly had. 

Though, he had begun to master ignoring them as if they weren't even occurring. He had fallen into a routine of waking up with wet sheets, dragging them all off his bed and dumping them in the wash along with his sodden clothes, and then wiped the incident from his mind like it had never even happened as he put his sheets back on his bed the next day. The thumb sucking continued, the crying for no reason and missing Tony so intensely it was interrupting his ability to function normally. He had convinced his mind that none of this was occurring, that he didn't miss Tony as much as he did, that he didn't have separation anxiety or bladder problems. 

Even though the bed wetting was bad, it was nothing compared to the anxiety. Constantly, his Daddy was always on his mind, Peter thinking of all the different ways that Tony could be harmed. The Rogues, the sleep deprivation, working in the lab, the alien spaceship. All Peter wanted was to be there, in the same vicinity as his father figure, like he always used to. It was beginning to consume him more and more as the days went on, and he knew the feeling he had deep in his chest was the exact same to when he had been severely attached to Tony, as well as Pepper, as a toddler. When he had ripped his shirt. 

He was currently on the subway, stress ball in hand, Iron Man plush secured inside of his backpack. It came practically everywhere with him now, save when he went on patrol, the small stuffed toy giving him comfort even when it wasn't in his hands. It was one tie he had to Tony that he could moderately sustain himself with, though he felt stupid for even having any of these thoughts. Being apart from Tony for a week at a time had never bothered him before, so why was he letting it affect him so badly now?

The thing was, Peter had been able to control it back then. Now, as if his emotions had been splayed open for the world to see, he couldn't control how he was feeling. He had become so, so used to being cared for so intently, even when it hadn't been the best at times. He remembered when Tony hid in the lab for two days because he had become so stressed out, but Peter didn't blame him. It was Peter's fault, he had become overwhelmed and caused all of that to happen. But even then, he hadn't felt so close to Tony that he couldn't stand being apart from him for more than five minutes.

Peter couldn't believe how bad it had become.

He had found himself becoming more jittery and anxious, regularly almost falling into panic attacks after waking up and not finding Tony there, or because he was not behind the bars of a crib like he had in Malibu. He absolutely hated how dependant he had become on his mentor, and how it seemed to get worse and worse as the time passed, so bad that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

If you had asked Peter six months ago what was going to happen to him, he would have laughed in your face and called you an idiot. There was no way that shrinking should be possible, and that Peter would never have thought he would have liked and missed being so small. He was completely petrified of that thought particularly, and felt slightly disgusted with himself that he wanted to go back to that carefree state of mind he so often slipped into. He would have called you insane if you said he would be constantly worrying and planning out how his days were going to go.

He missed not having to worry about waking up with wet sheets, or wetting himself in public because his bladder did not seem to want to recover. He missed being dependant on Tony when it wouldn't have been frowned upon, he missed being able to do his homework without his concentration wavering. He had done no homework, his classes were already suffering, and all the stress was adding up into one huge meltdown that would come sooner or later.

Peter wasn't stupid, he knew what path he was going down. Sooner or later, he wouldn't be able to control his emotions as effectively as he'd been trying to, and would end up embarrassing himself anyways.

He missed not being embarrassed about how childish he acted, because, well, he was a child. That was expected, but should not have been possible. The thumb-sucking, crying at every inconvenience or from the slightest twinge of pain or stomach ache, or simply because he didn't want to be separated from Tony had become so naturally it was becoming hard to remember how he had acted before all of this shit had happened. All that behaviour was of a normal, two-year-old child, and no one expected him to act any different. He hardly remembered how it felt to not worry about where his parental figures were. Even Pepper had gotten into his list.

Though, there was one thing he wished he had never gone through when he was a toddler.

The Rogues' return and learning about what happened to Tony in Siberia.

That was still something else that seemed to never leave his mind, though he did not pay as much attention to as the rest of his problems.

Spider-Man had been a good distraction in the beginning, but now, it was providing merely as something to occupy his mind for a few minutes at a time. When he was helping people or stopping crime, that was what he was thinking about in that moment. As soon as his job was done and he was sitting up on the roof, waiting for Karen to alert him of anyone who needed his help, his brain kicked back into gear and reminded him of all of the things he had lost, and all the things that he was craving to do.

So, Peter wasn't doing too great.

Arriving at school that Friday morning had been as much as a drag as it always had been. Unlike all those other mornings, this one had a special kick to it, because Happy was picking him up today. He would finally get to see Tony again, and the anxiety he always felt would be lifted for just a few hours. It was as if the last week had dragged out for years, and he regularly found himself almost dissolving into tears because of how badly he wanted a hug from his Dad. That, and the rest of his issues, was consuming him to the point where he could not concentrate in class, or when he was doing his homework.

Hence, his three failed tests just this week.

He hadn't told May yet, and he knew there was parent teacher interviews taking place in a few weeks, which were going to come up faster than he wanted. If he didn't get his ass into gear, he was going to get a pummelling from May and all of his teachers, and then by extension, Tony. He had always been good at school, and despite how much he knew he should care more about it, he couldn't give two shits anymore. He often found himself looking at his mounds of homework with disgusted feelings circulating around his mind, which turned him off even more. 

These thoughts kept themselves right up the front of Peter's mind, pestering him like some sort of bug, causing him to squeeze more intensely on the stress ball as he made his way out of the subway and into his school. He made sure to hold it close to his leg as he made his way to his locker, quickly grabbing all necessary books before speeding to his first class. English.

He sat down, leaning on his elbows as he waited for his teacher to arrive, watching his classmates enter the room one by one. He looked away from Flash when the boy sneered at him, pretending not to notice when he knocked Peter's desk and almost sent his laptop off of the surface. Ned and MJ appeared a few minutes later, Ned sending him a smile and MJ punching his shoulder. Peter simply smiled in response, looking to the front of the room when his teacher finally arrived. Turns out, they had a substitute.

Quickly, he found himself losing concentration. He began fiddling with his pen, chewing on his thumbnail as he began to doodle on his paper, drawing little faces of Spider-Man and Iron Man in the corner of his page when he was supposed to be typing up an essay on his computer. He ended up drawing Captain America's shield without even realising it, only to scribble it out and replace it with Thor's hammer. Once, he had thought about Steve Rogers as an idol, like he had and still did with Tony. Now, the thought of idolising a man who had hurt his father disgusted him to no end, and he couldn't even stomach seeing the face of Captain America ever again.

He had been aimlessly drawing away, laptop having turned off by itself long ago, still chewing on the end of his thumbnail consistently as a substitute for sucking, right up until he was tapped on the shoulder.

Peter blinked himself out of the little daze, removing his thumbnail from his teeth a little too quickly to be subtle, looking up to see the substitute staring down at him, hands on hips, looking disapproving of him. It was sad to realise that Peter didn't even know her name, and had not been paying attention at the start to even listen to her. The whole class was a blur to him, and he remembered near to nothing of what words had been said.

"What's your name?" She asked him, her large and drawn-on eyebrows furrowed downwards at him. She had a paper in her hand, most likely the attendance, Peter's heart dropping a little when he realised he was definitely in trouble. This woman reminded him a little of a witch, the clothing she was wearing not helping as he looked up at her. Despite the funny thought, this substitute teacher was intimidating, and he couldn't help but shrink back a little.

"Peter Parker?" It sounded like a question, nerves making goosebumps appear on his skin. He sounded stupid.

"Are you really Peter Parker? " She replied back somewhat sarcastically, making Peter's face flush with humiliation. "I've been watching you the entire class, you have not looked up once. I'll be writing a note to your teacher about this. Where is your essay?"

Peter wanted to cry.

He held his feelings in, only just, jerking his head up and down as his hands squeezed at the sides of the desk. The substitute teacher tutted disapprovingly when he didn't show her his non-existent essay, turning around and returning to the front of the classroom, leaving Peter embarrassed and shaky as he leant on his left hand. He looked down at his paper, realising with a panic that a tear had slipped and had landed on one of his drawings, making the ink smudge and spread out. 

He wiped his eyes hastily, hearing the snickers from his classmates and the whispers from Flash. He knew if he really wanted to, he could hear exactly what the boy was whispering to his friends, but found himself not caring or wanting to. He ignored it all instead, trying to will himself to stop crying, ignoring the looks he knew he was getting from Ned. It continued like this for the rest of the class, not even starting the essay that was assigned to them and due the following Monday. Peter didn't even know what it was, because he hadn't been listening the class before when his actual teacher had explained it to him.

Peter was the first out of the classroom, speeding down the hall and in the direction of the boy's bathrooms, feeling his lungs beginning to collapse from how long he had been holding his breath. Immediately hiding inside of a stall, he sat down on the closed toilet seat before literally ripping his backpack open. The zipper was completely mangled in his haste to get to his plushie, knowing he wasn't being quiet at all.

When his hands grasped at the fabric, he yanked the toy to his chest and sat back, shoving one thumb in his mouth in those pathetic attempts to self soothe. He was so overwhelmed that it was sending him off of the edge, the need to cry so urgent that it was giving him a headache. Sitting in here, having a semi-panic in a disgusting communal bathroom, sucking on his thumb because he didn't know what else to do made him feel shittier and shittier. Why was he freaking out so much just from having some random substitute teacher approach him, when he knew he would never see her again?

There was something about this situation that was making his stomach churn with intense anxiety, and simply shoving his thumb in his mouth seemed to do something at least to calm him down. He remembered very vividly of the times where he would do this, a lot of the times when he was crying over absolutely nothing. Which was happening right this second, and it almost felt like his soul wasn't in his body anymore.

God, he wanted his Daddy to be here. Tony would make everything better. He wouldn't make, or let for that matter, Peter feel so unhappy.

Peter shook his head in disbelief at how he was thinking, burying his head in his knees to try and block the thoughts from coming. Even that action was incredibly childish. 

He never ended up going to his Chemistry class. Peter remained hidden inside of the toilets for the entire hour, willing himself to calm down and not think about Tony or how he wished he was getting cuddled and comforted like he had been so often. He felt disgusted that he missed all the things that came with being taken care of, trying to wash the thoughts away but failing every time. He would get rid of one, and another would replace it.

God, he was weak. Why was he letting this affect him so much? This shouldn't be affecting him this much, he should be in class and not crying in a bathroom stall over things he couldn't have.

After doing as much as composing himself, he tucked his Iron Man plushie back into the bottom of his bag, cursing quietly about how bad he had damaged his zipper, before finally emerging from the cubicle. He made sure that there was no one inside the bathroom before he did so, setting his bag down in front of him when he reached the sink. Quickly washing his face, making sure all traces of redness around his eyes were as unnoticeable as possible before he would emerge.

He stared at himself for a few moments, still noticing the way his face looked different. Over the last two weeks, he could not figure out what was so wrong with his face. There was something so out of place, though he didn't know what it was, and the thought alone was beginning to give him a bigger headache. Peter knew he looked younger somehow, but he couldn't pinpoint what in his features was telling him that.

It was around lunch time when he was walking down the corridor, realising with a silent horror that he had been in the bathroom for longer than he had originally thought. He weaved through the crowds while holding his backpack together, thankfully having no encounters with Flash as he made his way there. He made it into the cafeteria in record time, immediately spotting Ned and MJ sitting at their usual table.

When he sat down, the two of them looked right at him with concern etched into their faces, even MJ. Peter felt himself shrink under their gazes, realising only now that he didn't go get a tray of food, but left that thought for later as he hugged his backpack to his chest like a teddy bear. 

"Peter." Michelle deadpanned, causing Peter to look up at her. "You've been crying."

Peter faltered. "No I haven't."

"We can tell, dude." Ned said next, reaching out across the small table to put his hand on Peter's wrist. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Peter replied, squeezing his backpack tighter to his chest. "I'm okay."

"You're not." MJ butted in, arms crossed over her chest, concern replaced with that bored look. "Your eyes are red and you're sniffing. What happened? Is this to do with the whole thing that happened with Stark?"

Right. Peter had forgotten that Michelle knew all about that. "No."

"I don't believe you."

Sometimes, Peter wished Michelle wasn't so blunt.

"I said I'm fine." Peter replied, silently drawing all the comfort he could out of the hand that Ned had placed on his wrist. It was a comforting touch, reassuring, and Peter couldn't help but sink into it. Although, he wished it was Tony. "I wasn't crying. I just.. got something in my eye."

"You're a terrible liar." Michelle voiced his thoughts, now just looking unimpressed. "You were gone for a long time."

"Guys, please just stop." Peter replied, voice shaking slightly all of a sudden, the emotions surging through his veins so fast his heart began to pound. He was reacting as if they had just personally offended him, and he knew they hadn't, but he couldn't help but take everything Michelle was saying to heart. Why the ever-loving fuck he was acting like this, he had no idea, but he did know that it was getting harder and harder not to burst into tears and cry for his Daddy like he had been doing for last two hours. "I wasn't crying, I just- I just-"

"It's okay Peter." Ned suddenly sounded panicked, which made Peter feel panicked. "We'll stop, okay?"

Peter nodded as if Ned had declared a very important secret, chewing on his lip for a few seconds afterwards. He locked eyes with Ned for a few moments, sensing the worry in his friend's expression, though he did not have any time to react because his senses began to tingle in the back of his head. Something was coming.

He had to do everything not to react when something hit him on the back of his head, forcing himself to flinch instead when Flash's cackling laughter erupted around him. Peter's emotions were already on a knife's edge, and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to that edge as Flash began to torment him all over again.

"So, Penis, what was that show you pulled this morning, aye?" Flash cackled, leaning on the table so he could see Peter's face. Peter felt immensely horrified that he was scared under the stare of his long term bully, trying his best not to edge away. He was Spider-Man. He had never been scared of Flash before. He shouldn't be scared of Flash anymore. He shouldn't be scared of anything, because he was Spider-Man, right? "Did the baby have a little cry?"

Peter's heart almost exploded when he heard that one word, his mind instantly thrown back to those events. He felt his lower his quiver a little, forcing himself to breath as Flash continued to talk down to him.

"Ooohh, what happened to your bag?" Flash asked, and Peter could sense it before it happened. Flash grabbed his backpack, Peter letting him take it for a reason he didn't know, feeling so small and so vulnerable that he couldn't do anything to stop the bully from taking his broken backpack. Without hesitation, Flash put Peter's backpack upside down and began emptying it's contents all over the cafeteria floor in front of everyone.

Peter didn't have time to feel relieved that he hadn't brought his suit today.

His Iron Man teddy came tumbling out onto the floor, rolling off of the books and along the tiled floor. Peter felt himself immediately begin to panic, himself and Flash frozen for a few seconds before the boy burst into laughter, bending over to pick up the plushie, holding it up to his face to inspect it.

Peter's eyes were welling up, Michelle was talking and so was Ned, but he couldn't understand what they were saying over the water rushing through his ears. All he could understand, was Flash.

"Man, I knew you were obsessed with Stark, but this is a whole new level." Flash sniggered, Peter hearing the distant echoes of laughter from the rest of the students in the cafeteria who were obviously watching this whole ordeal go down. "Is this like, some weird kink, huh, Penis?"

"Give it back." Peter's cheeks flushed red when his voice shook and wavered, his nose becoming even more clogged than it had been before as the tears began to blur his eyes. Just through the blur, he could see the shocked expression painted all over Flash's face, though he did not feel as accomplished as he should have been that he had shocked Flash Thompson into silence.

He yanked the toy from Flash's hand, hearing the tear before he saw it. He felt everything crashing down even faster when he saw that in his hand, was the toy, and in Flash's hand was one of it's arms.

Peter let the tears fall, humiliation becoming his only emotion as he hurried to stuff everything into his broken backpack, shoving his broken stuffie in with a heaving breath. He sat back down at the cafeteria table, despite knowing he should probably leave, burying his face in his hands and tried his best not to sob right there and then. His shoulders were shaking, people talking around him, the loud roar of water in his ears still preventing him from hearing what they were saying. He cried into his hands, flinching when someone sat down beside him and wrapped their arm around his shoulders.

Gradually, a voice filled his ears. Ned's.

"-ey, Peter, come on. We need to get out of here, come on." Ned was trying to get him to stand up, gently pulling on him, trying to get him out from the chair he was planted on. Peter took a few more long moments after Ned spoke to him before he began pushing himself up, still hugging his backpack to his chest. He vaguely registered that there was a small, red arm held in Ned's fingers, the arm to his Iron Man teddy. It was horrifying, feeling so small in a room filled with so many people, crying over an arm being ripped off of his toy. Right now, he felt like the toddler he had become used to being, letting Ned half-drag him out of the cafeteria while MJ yelled at Flash behind them. "It's okay, Peter."

"N-no." Peter spluttered as Ned pulled him into the bathroom, vaguely hearing the lock click. "It's not- what am I doing?"

Peter was confused. He was disorientated. Why was he letting Flash affect him so much? Why was he crying so hard over that stupid fucking toy?

When he had been thinking about a meltdown earlier that morning, this was it. This was that meltdown. 

"Peter, you need to breathe." Peter hated hearing Ned sound so mature. It didn't fit him at all, he wasn't meant to be like this. They were meant to be laughing with each other, they were meant to be talking about Star Wars and Lego and anything else they would usually talk about. Peter wasn't supposed to be crying like this, he wasn't supposed to feel so young and out of control. He was fifteen, he was meant to be stronger than this. Why was he letting this happen? "This isn't your fault. Do you- do you want me to call someone? Do you want me to call your Dad?"

Peter faltered, and moments later, his knees buckled and he tumbled onto the floor, his backpack splaying out in front of him as he almost head butted the tiles. He felt Ned clamber down beside him as he tried pushing himself up, feeling so weak and disgusting that he physically couldn't move. He sobbed instead, letting Ned help him up, his ear soon being placed right over Ned's heart beat. He could hear it racing, it had to be panic, feeling immediately guilty. The arm from the Iron Man stuffie was placed in his shaking hand.

"I think I should call Tony." Ned spoke up again, rubbing his back. This wasn't the first time they had been in this position, but the last time they had, Peter had been much, much smaller and crying because he missed his Daddy. This was almost the same thing, but there was so much more mortification mixed in with it. "Peter, I'm going to call Tony, okay?"

Peter began to rapidly shake his head, not being able to stand the thought. "N-no."

"Why not?" Ned asked, sounding horrified. "How are you supposed to go to class like this?"

Peter didn't say anything, feeling his fingers that weren't holding the stuffed arm raising to prod at his lower lip. If Ned noticed, he said nothing, instead keeping his arms around Peter's body as he fought to calm himself down. He was so panic stricken, so embarrassed that he had let himself lose control like that, dreading what was coming next. He would have to go to his last class of the day, he had already skipped one today. His grades were going to suffer even more than they already were, and he had no idea how to feel about anything anymore. There was too much on his mind, it was all too much. 

It took him a solid twenty minutes to finally calm down, listening to Ned's heartbeat as it slowed down. The tip of his index finger had disappeared into his mouth, though it was helping him stay calmer. In his other hand, he rubbed the arm with his thumb, wishing he had the whole soft toy to cling onto.

"Are you okay now?" Ned asked, his voice low. Thankfully he locked the main door to the bathroom, because anyone could have walked in on them. Peter was lucky that there wasn't already someone in here, feeling his heart begin to race all over again at the thought of it. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Tony? You shouldn't go back to-"

"I can do it." Peter whispered, before very slowly pushing himself out of Ned's arms, removing his finger and used both hands to wipe underneath his eyes. He was heaving, the crying having taken everything out of him, finally able to think semi-clearly again. "I'm f-fine."

It was Ned's turn to splutter. "No, you're not."

He and Ned did not end up going to their last class for the day. It took Peter the rest of the day to get himself organised, his chest aching for Tony and May and Pepper and even Rhodey, trying his very best to keep himself composed as Ned helped him clean himself up. In all their years of friendship, something as intense as this had never happened to them before, and Peter would have never expected it to be because he had been de-aged into a toddler.

It was when the end of day school bell went that Peter realised exactly what he was supposed to be doing after school.

Panic encased his heart from where he was staring at himself in the mirror, his body beginning to tremble just a little. Tony would definitely know if something was up, and Peter had no idea how he would react if Tony asked him what was wrong...

He was so, so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really surprised that so many people think i'm 18+, but i turned 17 around two weeks ago!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, i've been having trouble finding inspiration :(
> 
> hopefully y'all enjoy!

When Peter and Ned finally got out of school, the majority of the kids were gone already. A few people were looking at him when he finally emerged from the school, eyes and face still red, nose still clogged. Peter kept his head down, walking beside Ned, only looking up when he needed to search the carpark for Happy. He squeezed the portion of his toy in his fist, wondering where his stress ball had disappeared to. 

He didn't have to search long, because Happy was parked right out the front, leaning against the class with his sunglasses on. Peter's heart catapulted in his chest when the man removed his sunglasses, walking away from his car and in Peter's direction as soon as he seemed to notice he was there. Ned stayed at his side, the two continuing to walk as Happy met them in the middle. 

"Where have you been?" Happy asked as soon as he was close enough, making Peter jump when his hand clapped on his shoulder. It wasn't forceful, it was rather gentle, gentler than Happy had ever been with him when he was a teenager. Peter felt his lip waver a little when he once again spotted that concerned look in his driver's eyes, eyes which were looking over his face and seemingly assessing his facial expressions. "Your face is red."

"I'm okay. I just.. I just.. a t-teacher wanted to talk with us." Peter nodded to himself, as if he were agreeing with his own words, hoping Ned was doing the same beside him. When he looked back up to face the Head of Security, his face told him that he didn't believe a word of what Peter had said.

"Whatever you say, kid. You're late, we gotta get you back to the Compound. Boss is waiting." Happy replied, rubbing his shoulder. Peter couldn't believe the man's behaviour towards him since he had been aged back up, though he had to push those thoughts away from his mind when Tony was mentioned. His chest searched with longing, longing to be with his father who he had been away from for far too long. Despite all of the problems surrounding the Compound at this very moment, for example, that huge spaceship that has fallen quiet in the media since it's arrival. Along with that, was the memory of the Rogue Avengers. "Come on, into the car. You've already made me worried enough."

Peter looked at the man again, a little confronted. Happy was already turning around, putting his sunglasses on, and opening the car for Peter to hop it. Quickly, he turned back to Ned, sending him a wobbly and half-hearted smile.

"Thanks, dude." Peter's voice was still wavering, as if he were on the brink of tears. Which, honestly, he was. "I'll see you Monday?"

Ned still looked serious, which worried Peter just a little. "Don't come if you're not ready, dude."

"I'll be fine. Bye."

"Bye."

With that, Peter turned back around, hurriedly making his way into the car when he saw the usual glare on Happy's face, hugging his backpack to his chest as he had been doing since he had ripped it open, sitting down and letting Happy close the door for him. He leant his head on the window, relishing in the cool feeling from the glass, Happy getting into the car and taking off from the curb within seconds.

Throughout the usual, hour long ride, Peter began to feel anxious all over again. Tears burned in his eyes from the events that had taken place during his day, realising that he had no time to eat at all, and that his stomach was hurting yet again from the lack of food. He ignored it, closing his eyes, trying not to think so hard on the embarrassment.

This had been one of his worst days in a while, despite everything that has happened.

Happy didn't say a word to him the entire time, right up until they reached the Compound. Peter didn't open his eyes to look at the spaceship, only opening them when he was sure they were inside of the garage. His eyes were blurry as they adjusted to the light, unbuckling his seatbelt and heaving himself out of the car within minutes. He was led over to the lift, as he always was, not being able to stop the tip of his index finger from prodding at his lower lip. For some stupid reason, he once again felt like he was going to lose it, but had no idea why. He wasn't at school anymore, he was going to see Tony. He was finally going to see Tony after their week apart. Why did he feel so terrified?

Squeezing the arm in his hand, the conflicting emotions overwhelmed him as they made their way up in the lift. FRIDAY didn't speak, as if she could sense the tension, Peter becoming confused when the lift stopped at a different level. This level wasn't Tony's lab, or Tony's floor. It was a floor he was sure he had never been on, his jaw dropping to the floor when he saw who was on the other side of the doors once they opened.

Standing right in front of him, beaming, one eye alight and happy, was Thor. 

Seeing him now, as a teenager, was quite frankly terrifying. Thor didn't seem fazed as he stepped into the lift, Happy spluttering something beside Peter, as if he had not been expecting the man to ambush their trip in the lift either. Peter felt his hands beginning to shake rapidly, index finger still hovering around his mouth, having no idea how to act or what to do around one of his idols. Everything was just too much, his brain was running a million miles an hour, and despite all of his inner protests not to, tears welled up in his eyes and his face crumpled.

"Hello, youngling!" Thor had said as he stepped in, acting like nothing was wrong. Peter looked up at him, terrified, feeling so overwhelmed and tired that he just wanted his Daddy. At this point, Tony was the only one going to make him feel better, and having Thor in the fucking same lift as him was not helping his already terrible day at all. He would have loved to meet Thor (again?) if the circumstances were different, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from crying now. He was just. So. Overwhelmed. "Stark told me I could join in on your movie night! I have had no such movie night since the Avengers, but I guess they are of no friends to us anymore."

Peter looked up at Thor, tears pooling, burning his eyes. It was all too familiar now. Even the reminder of the Rogues left his heart in a chokehold, his mind filtering through every memory he had since he found out what Captain Rogers had done to Tony.

Thor's smile instantly dropped from his face when his one eye met Peter's two, a look of panic passing over his face as the lift doors closed. Peter felt Happy grab onto his sleeve, trying to get him to turn around, but he was rigid. He was scared. He was small. He wanted his Daddy, and the worst thing was, he had no idea why he was crying. 

Peter did not turn around, eyes fixated on Thor, almost wanting the man to comfort him because Tony wasn't here.

Peter was confused. So, so confused.

"Have I said something wrong, Young Peter?" Thor sounded horrified, now looking awkward, looking genuinely sorry for Peter's tears. Peter shook his head, though his face continued to crumple up, burying his face in his hands because he just couldn't handle it anymore. "Do you want your father, young one?"

Peter couldn't stop himself from nodding, choking on a sob, feeling utterly exhausted because of all the times he had cried today.

Without really thinking about it, he had shuffled closer to Thor, as if his body was subconsciously asking for comfort. The lift was going upwards, though the trip felt slow, and all he wanted was to be in Tony's arms. But Tony wasn't here.

His mind was clouding over, Peter becoming even more disorientated, unsure what was going on and why he felt so terrible. 

As if Thor knew what Peter was trying to do, the man set his hands on Peter's shoulder and brought him closer, and soon, Peter's face was buried in the soft jumper Thor was wearing, the God's arms wrapped around him so tight it felt like he was going to suffocate. It was now that he realised that he was, in fact, acting like a complete idiot in front of a God, one of the Avengers, and now crying on him as if he had done so before. 

"What did you do to him?" He heard Happy whisper, loudly, loud enough for Peter to hear. "Couldn't you see he was already about to lose it?"

So Peter must have looked shitty.

Thor never said anything, which Peter was grateful for. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to stand anything else, trying his best not to sob as his hands fisted Thor's jumper on their own accord, somehow keeping the small, red arm in his grasp as well. The lift ride seemed to stretch out for eternity, Peter not removing his face from Thor's chest even when they tried to get him to walk. It was as if his body had shut down, his muscles feeling heavy and brain feeling lost to him. He was tired, he was over it, and all he wanted was to be with Tony and to sleep. He wanted to go back to how things were, where he wasn't so constantly stressed out and scared of every little thing. He almost wanted Thor to pick him up, so the weight was lifted off of his shoulders and he could let someone take care of him again.

"What's going on?" Tony. That was Tony's voice. He was so close. When had he gotten here? "Peter?"

A hand rested on his back, and Thor's arms left him. It was moments later when the hand was around his waist, gently pulling him away from his hiding place, Peter burying his face back in his hands so he didn't have to look at anyone, so deeply embarrassed that he couldn't get a control of himself. It wasn't long before the hands were being pulled away from his face, horror welling up in his chest when his eyes found Tony's. Along with the horror, was a deep sense of relief, the longing he had been feeling for the last week finally releasing, now that he was back with his Dad.

The man was kneeling in front of him, now looking at his hands, his fingers running over the small Iron Man stuffie arm. Peter watched the confusion turn the man's eyebrows down, before he seemed to realise something. He took the arm, pocketed it, and then looked back up at Peter.

Tony's face was filled up with so much worry that it made Peter want to hide away and never come out again. Still, he was unable to stop himself from crying, hardly aware of Thor and Happy slinking past them and further into Tony's floor. Peter looked away, unsure what to do, reaching up to wipe his eyes when Tony let go of one of his hands. 

"Kiddie, what's wrong?" Tony was standing back up, letting go of his hand and instead raising it to Peter's cheek, wiping some tears away on the eye Peter hadn't wiped himself. Peter shook his head, hunching in on himself and wrapped his arms around his stomach, so overwhelmed by both his day and the fact that Tony was here, standing right in front of him, wiping his tears away like he used to. He couldn't help but be reminded of what Captain America had done to him once again, how he had heard about what had happened in the bunker. One of his idols since as far back as he could remember had hurt his Daddy, and there was no way he was going to be able to think the same of Steve Rogers ever again. "Peter, talk to me."

Peter didn't know what to do or say, trying his very best to stop being such a baby, but he couldn't stand it anymore. Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began directing him down the hall, Peter only realising where they were going when he was guided through the door, Tony closing it behind them before Peter was sat down on the bed.

Tony sat beside him, Peter conscious of the man's hesitance when he set a hand on his knee. Peter didn't look at his Dad, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried his hardest to just calm down. He so desperately wanted to be held like he had used to, to hide away from the world and for it just to be him and Tony. He missed being so small. He hated these thoughts, he hated thinking about all of the memories he now had, knowing that if he had forgotten them it wouldn't be so hard on him. He hated knowing what it was like to be cared for so dearly, he hated knowing how a toddler's mindset was and what it felt like. 

"Peter, hey." Tony's finger was under his chin as he spoke, making Peter jump from the unexpected contact. Tony's finger didn't move away, gently moving Peter's head so he was facing the older man, Peter's eyes still leaking uncontrollably. Tony looked as if he was far out of his league, face creased with worry, his eyes flickering over Peter's face as if trying to decipher exactly how he was feeling. "Bad day?"

Peter nodded, looking down, Tony's finger falling from his chin. Tony sighed, rubbing Peter's knee with his thumb on his other hand, Peter now able to feel the slight tremble in his mentor's own hand. 

"Is this from the toy?" Tony asked, more seriously this time, squeezing his knee while showing the arm with the other hand. Peter nodded sadly, continuing to look in his lap, suddenly feeling so humiliated that he just wanted to dig a deep, deep hole he could go die in. "How did this happen?"

"Flash." Peter mumbled, shaking his head a few times in disbelief at himself. "I d-don't know what's w-wrong with me. I'm s-so s-stupid."

Tony's hand tightened on his knee. "You're not stupid, kid, believe me."

Peter didn't answer, feeling his face crumple up once again as another barrage of tears began welling up in his eyes. 

"I want you to be honest with me, kid. I haven't seen you much since everything, and you're worrying me. I've missed my Spider-Kid."

Peter only cried harder, not knowing how to feel. This was so different from how things used to be, he felt closer with Tony, hardly being able to associate the man in front of him to the one he had been just a few weeks ago, before everything had happened. Tony had never comforted him like this until he was a toddler, and now that he wasn't one, it felt even more meaningful. No matter how cheesy and pathetic Peter was sounding, he had been missing this ever since Uncle Ben had died.

"Peter?" Peter snapped back into reality, realising with complete horror that his thumb had been sneaking up to his mouth, the tip now resting on his lower lip. He lowered it, shaking his head to get out of the little daze he had fallen under, slowly meeting Tony's eye. The man looked impossibly more worried, reaching up to wipe Peter's tears away once again. "Jesus, Pete. Talk to me, yeah? We were around each other.. a lot."

Peter smiled a little through his tears, eyes looking away from Tony's. 

"Do you remember everything?" Tony asked after a few moments of silence, once again pulling Peter's face so they were looking at each other. 

Peter nodded, reaching up to wipe away the fresh tears that had begun rolling down his cheeks.

Tony looked a little panicked for a few moments, as if he hadn't been expecting Peter to nod, recovering quickly before plastering a neutral expression onto his face.

"We were with each other a lot, Petey. I'm not gonna lie, it wasn't all that bad." Tony was smiling, though he looked sad. "So, I hate seeing you like this. You gotta tell me what's wrong, who this Flash kid is. I want to help."

"B-bad day." Peter whispered in reply, feeling his gut drop when a disappointed look appeared on Tony's face. 

"Is there anything else that's been bothering you?" Tony asked right after, looking far more worried than he had a few moments ago. "Please be honest with me, Peter. We both know Loki's magic is pretty fuc-ked."

Peter had to smile when Tony caught himself mid-swear word, before finishing with an eye roll. 

"You're fifteen, you can handle the language." Tony muttered after a few moments, a ghost of a smile appearing on the man's face. Peter realised, in this moment, that Tony looked tired. He looked older, and he looked stressed out. The dark bags under his eyes were obvious, and have even possibly worsened since the last time Peter had seen him. Guilt ran through his veins as Tony fell silent for a few moments, Peter pretty much hearing him think. "Loki's a pretty messed up alien. If his spell is having some sort of effect on you, I want to know. I don't think I can stand the thought of not knowing something is wrong, Peter. I don't trust that bastard in the slightest. Especially when he's over there, in his fucking spaceship acting like he's top shit..."

Peter knew this was the perfect opportunity to tell Tony everything that was wrong with him, to seek the help and comfort he was craving.

He knew he should tell Tony everything. Of course he should, he had taken care of Peter when he was a fucking toddler! What was happening now, was honestly not even as bad as what had happened when he had less control of his bodily functions. He had vomited, had shitted, had peed on multiple occasions. Hell, he even had diarrhoea at one point! Why was this so hard in comparison? 

But there was something, something like a mental barrier in his mind preventing him from feeling okay with telling Tony what was wrong. He was scared, he was scared of Tony leaving him because he was too high maintenance. There was no excuses now, he was fifteen years old, not two. He should be able to handle himself, he shouldn't be pissing his bed like a baby anymore.

There was the lingering fear that maybe this was Loki's doing, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

He was supposed to go back to normal, like nothing had happened. He wasn't supposed to do everything he had done as a toddler. He wasn't supposed to want it.

He also wasn't supposed to lie to Tony like this. 

But he did so anyways.

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark." Peter replied as this all went on in his head, finally feeling like he could compose himself now. "I just had a bad day."

Tony looked at him for a few more moments, studying his face, before sighing. He looked unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

Peter nodded, trying to push away the intense guilt he felt for lying to his mentor's face. "Just a bad day."

He spared another look at Tony, who looked... Peter didn't really know how to describe how Tony looked. What he did know, was that it made him feel terrible. Looking away, he tried not to burst into tears again, looking back down in his lap as he tried his best to push away all the bad feelings. The amount of times he had cried today had exhausted him, and he had no idea how to feel about his rollercoaster of a day. He had cried on Thor.. a fucking God. Peter had cried on a God.

"Well, how's about we go have that movie night, then?" Tony asked after some long, tense moments of silence, reaching up to ruffle Peter's hair. "Jesus, you're so big now. I'm not used to it. I'm used to a pint-sized you waddling around."

Peter's heart leapt in his chest. He smiled either way, standing up from his bed when Tony did the same. Though, when he looked at the man, it was almost as if there was loss displayed on his face. As it always was with Tony, the emotion was wiped from his face within seconds, something he had hardly noticed before all of this had happened. He hadn't really noticed it when he was smaller, either, but now, it was so painstakingly obvious that it made him want to curl up and die. Was it him who was making Tony stay up all night? Was it him who was causing all these emotions to pass over his mentor's face? Did he not want Peter around anymore because he liked his baby counterpart more? Did he regret letting Peter get himself aged back up?

These were thoughts that he had never had before. Now that he had realised it, he couldn't get it out of his head, and he knew that it would keep him up at night for days on end. Yay to more lack of sleep!

"Oh!" Tony suddenly exclaimed, making Peter jump in fright. "Where's that toy of yours?"

Peter paled a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek before speaking. "In my backpack."

"Get it out." Tony replied, Peter bending down to do exactly what he asked, pulling the one-armed stuffie out of his bag with now red-tinged cheeks. He handed it over to Tony, who Peter realised was still holding the toy's arm, the man taking it with a troubled stare. "I'll get this fixed for you."

Peter didn't understand what he was hearing, but nodding nonetheless. With that, Tony turned around and gestured for Peter to follow, Peter wiping the remaining tears away desperately as the two of them made their way to the living room.

Peter could have fallen over when he saw Thor, sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table as if he had always lived inside of the Compound with them. Happy was nowhere to be seen, Peter suspecting that he may have left sometime during the time Tony and Peter had been in his room. He ignored the thought, shying away from the God when the man turned to look at him. If anyone's face resembled a kicked puppy look, it was Thor. It made Peter feel terrible, and he had no idea what he could have possibly done to make the man look so sad.

"Go sit with Thor." Tony said after a few moments, as if he were oblivious to Peter's internal struggle. "You don't need to be nervous, kid, you already met him. You were just a bit... smaller?"

Peter didn't answer, slowly shuffling over to the couch Thor was sitting on. Thor's one eye followed him, right up to where Peter sat down right beside him on the three seater couch. He didn't really have the time to feel bad, because Thor's arm was around his shoulder within moments and was aggressively pulling him into his chest. Peter let out a surprised squeak as his face smushed into Thor's side, trying to reduce his quick heart rate as Thor patted his arm rather hard.

"I am very sorry, youngling. I did not mean to make you so upset." Thor said as he pulled Peter in, sounding genuinely sorry. "If I had known my presence would make you so troubled, I would not have come. Would you like me to leave?"

Peter was left shocked for a few moments, wondering to himself if this was all a dream.

"It's o-okay." Peter mumbled, Thor not letting up on his hold. It was honestly comforting, and Peter hated the fact that he felt that way. "It wasn't you, Mr. Thor."

"No need for formalities!" Thor boomed, again clapping Peter on the shoulder rather hard and made him jump. "Call me Thor!"

"Sorry." Peter whispered, not really knowing what to do or say. His day had been wild, and not in a good way at all. 

"No need for apologies!" Thor said a little quieter this time, rubbing his shoulder. "How have you been doing, young Spider?"

Peter nearly choked. Thor knew he was Spider-Man?

"Fine." He whispered, knowing that if he was going to tell anyone about these so-called side effects, it would be Thor. If anyone could actually help him, it would be the brother of the man who had done this to him in the first place. But the thought of telling Thor, a whole fucking God, an Avenger, that he was pissing himself on a daily, was completely horrifying and humiliating. Nope. No way would that be happening today, or ever. He had gone through enough embarrassment since he was aged back up. "I'm feeling okay."

"I feel terribly that I made you weep." Thor said after a few moments, as if Peter had never said anything. Peter felt his cheeks burn red, almost wanting to get himself off of the couch and demand to be taken back to the apartment, but kept himself rigid. "You were a very small child. You are still very small. Are you sure you are not Stark's?"

"I'm not his." Peter mumbling, wanting to know where Tony had gotten to. He worried his lip, still in disbelief of who he was sitting next to and half-cuddling, though was beginning to give into the comfort yet again. It was as if he constantly needed attention, now, definitely not wanting to think about how much that was a literal part of being a toddler. "Are you leaving Earth again?"

Thor paused, as if thinking through his options. "I will not. Asgard is in pieces. I feel friend Tony needs some company."

Peter's heart could have shot out of his chest when Tony was mentioned in the same sentences friend, his mind immediately going back to to what Steve Rogers had done to him. Now that Peter really thought hard on it, Tony no longer had many friends. He had Rhodey, Happy and Pepper obviously. He had Bruce Banner and Thor. 

Peter's eyes were burning. Again.

Why couldn't he just keep his fucking emotions in check?

He forced it all away before he replied. "What about your ship?"

"It will all be resolved with time." Thor replied, before Peter picked up the sounds of footsteps. Tony must have been coming back. "I like you, young Peter. I think we will be great friends!"

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't squealing internally. 

Despite that thought, he felt immensely relieved when Tony re-entered the room, Peter's stuffie no longer in his hands. Peter wondered where it had been taken, watching his mentor round the couch before sitting down on one of the armchairs, already talking to FRIDAY about what movie they were going to watch.

Peter felt a little sad that Tony didn't sit with him. Thor kept his arm around his shoulders, Peter gradually relaxing completely as he analysed his mentor's facial expressions. He looked relatively calm, though Peter knew there was something else going on. Those bags under his eyes seemed to have become darker, and there were more lines forming on his face as the minutes passed. Exhaustion. That's all Peter could pinpoint it as.

So, they began to watch Star Wars, Peter finding that he was finally enjoying himself while explaining the movie to Thor. Though, he always felt a little lost that his Dad was sitting so far away, out of reach, beginning to doze in the armchair as if he hadn't gotten any good sleep in weeks.

Peter didn't feel good when he went home. He felt tired, he felt sad, embarrassed.

He curled into May's arms without a word, the two cuddling on the couch until Peter began to doze. He was lead into his room, and he couldn't remember anything after that. He was sure he had fallen asleep from the day, the continued stress really taking it's toll.

It was no surprise when he woke up with soaked sheets, tear-stained cheeks and a million thoughts running through his mind as he panicked, forgetting momentarily where he was. It had been one of those moments where he believed that he was still in his toddler form, and that Tony was there to look after him. 

He was a complete, and utter mess.

The nightmares started that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter and thor are so cute don't touch me


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!  
> i'm so so SO sorry for making y'all wait so long again for this chapter.
> 
> as i've said before, i've been having a lack of inspiration lately but i finally figured out some ideas after writing some possibilities down in a notebook. writing things out helps a lot, i recommend it.
> 
> i've also had exams the last week and a half, so i have had virtually no time to write either. but i finally managed to finish this chapter and have some ideas for the next. so hopefully, i can write it and get it out quicker. it was much better with the last pic that i had all my chapters pre-written and ready to post, but for this i have had no inspo to do that. 
> 
> i've also started watching the 100 again so that's taking up time too.
> 
> this chapter is more of a filler for the next, since i have some drama planned. sorry for it being so shit and for the slow burn lmao
> 
> anyways, i hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading my long ass note if you did :)

Peter came to with a headache.

He tried rolling over to get into a more comfortable position, though there was something holding him down and preventing him from doing so. Confusion filled his senses as he opened his eyes, trying to see what was around him through the darkness. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, his heart stopping and breath catching when he saw what was on top of his remarkably smaller body.

There was a large slab of concrete, wedged onto his chest, somehow not crushing his body, his breathing picking up in speed as he rolled his head to each side, seeing concrete surrounding him with no way out. He was surprised he could even see, his eyes beginning to cloud with tears as he tried to move, panic encasing his body when he realised he couldn't do so. He tried to scream, but was shocked into a momentary silence when he heard himself. It was more of a wail, it was high pitched, and his lower half was rapidly becoming warm.

It took him a few moments of more confusion before he burst into tears, unable to stop his sobs as he called out for someone, anyone, hardly registering that he was a toddler again. He was too busy trying to escape the claustrophobia of being trapped in such a small space, along with the concrete slab crushing his chest and preventing him from moving. Any logical thought of wondering how he wasn't dead yet was gone to Peter as he sobbed, managing to free a small arm from his side, reaching up and began making grabbing motions, his small fingers grazing the concrete above him. The childish cry echoed all around him, taunting him, reminding him of all of the memories, causing him to cry harder and reach up with his one arm, for what, he didn't know. 

How had he gotten here? How had he gotten back into his toddler form again? Was this Loki?

Peter felt like he cried for what felt like hours on end, stuck underneath the mound of concrete, distantly reminding him of when the Vulture had dropped a building on him. He began coughing and choking on his tears, snot running down over his lips from his nose, justing wanting out of this horrible, dark place. He wanted Daddy.

Then, the concrete moved. It broke off from where it must have been supported, landing completely on Peter's tiny, and fragile, chest, the wind being knocked out of him as the panic increased. The walls were closing in on him, he was screaming, and all he could think about Daddy. Where was Daddy? Why wasn't he here? Where the hell was he?

Was he going to die?

It was when the concrete finally crushed his chest that he felt himself falling, only to land quickly with a thud. He shot up, eyes flying open. The concrete no longer surrounding him. He looked down to see his legs tangled up in a darkened sheet as light flooded into the room, someone collapsing onto the ground beside who began caressing his face.

Before he could think better of it, he whispered a quiet and pitiful, "Daddy?"

"Baby, it's okay. You're okay." That wasn't Tony. That was May. Somewhere deep in his mind was the familiar feeling of embarrassment, but the fear was overpowering it. "Just a bad dream, you're okay. You're in the apartment with me, you're safe."

Peter was drenched head to toe in sweat, and most likely pee, sitting on the floor beside his bed with all of his sheets and doona on the ground with him. His chest heaved in air, choking when he inhaled too quickly, tears streaking down his face and dripping onto his shirt. He looked at his hands, finding them their normal sizes, as was the rest of his body. It took him a few moments to realise what exactly had happened, chewing on his lip so hard it split. May immediately cupped his chin, wiping away the blood with a frown, then wiping away some of his tears with the other.

His lap was beginning to feel cold, the fear finally beginning recede and the embarrassment beginning to surface. He looked around his room, no signs of the concrete that had been crushing him in his vision. There was no sign of Tony, either, and it took him a long time to realise what he had called his mentor in front of his Aunt. Just the thought almost sending him right back into the panic he had been feeling in his nightmare.

May sat with him, running her hand through his hair as he came back to his senses. The two of them sat on the floor in the light streaming in from the hallway, the silence almost deafening. Peter finally managed to compose himself after a few long minutes, wiping the remaining tears away as he turned to look at his beside table, frowning when he saw the time. It was only twelve thirty. He had gotten back to the apartment only a few hours ago, and had fallen asleep at nine and woken at ten to a wet bed. He had fallen asleep afterwards, and did not remember drinking anything that could have caused him to wet the bed twice in one night. 

"Are you okay, honey?" His Aunt whispered when Peter appeared calm enough, moving to hold his hand with hers. Peter shook his head, feeling his split lip beginning to heal already, trying his best not to look at the sight of wet sheets. It was sad that it was becoming the new normal, beginning to miss how his life used to be and how he had felt when he was two years old. If he was two now, this wouldn't be frowned upon. He would have been changed, and it would have been forgotten afterwards. "Hop in the shower. Do you want me to call Tony?"

Peter shook his head. He heard May sigh, her hands tightening around his. Peter wasn't sure if it was in anger or sadness, though it made him feel bad either way. 

"You need to tell him what's going on. You know he'll help you, he did look after you. I can only do so much, and it's getting worse." May continued, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles in a comforting manner. She seemed more disappointed than angry, which in some ways, was so much worse. "I don't like this, honey. You can't go a night without wetting your bed, and now you're having nightmares."

"I don't care." Peter whispered, beginning to make attempts to stand up. May moved with him, letting him lean on her for support as he gathered himself, continuing to wipe away the drying tears on his cheeks. "I'm fine. I don't need help."

"But you're not, sweetie." May replied, her voice beginning to shake as if she were going to cry. "Look at yourself."

Peter did. His pyjama pants were soaked, from the waist to the leg, as were the sheets that were now scattered across his bedroom floor. Chewing on the end of his thumb as he looked down at the mess he had created, Peter could never have hated himself more. He was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to be able to jump back from everything and be okay. Peter hated that he was making May sad, that he was probably making Tony sad. Instead of agreeing with his Aunt, that he would call Tony and tell him everything that was wrong with him, he lied through his teeth. "I'm gonna be fine."

"Get in the shower." May replied, not unkindly, kissing his temple. Peter hated how defeated she looked, how sad her face began to appear the more times he said he was fine. "I'll make you some tea."

Peter nodded, pulling away from her and numbly made his way over to his drawers to gather some new pyjamas. He grabbed a plain shirt, no silly science pun, and some grey sweats along with underwear. Peter avoided looking at the mess on the floor and on himself, walking into the bathroom only to be faced with his horrid reflection in the mirror. His eyes were rimmed with red, filled with unshed tears, his skin pale and ghostly. He could just see the beginning of the wet patch in the very bottom of the mirror, looking away from it quickly. Peter's face still had that strange look about it, causing him to look away. He was overwhelmed.

He stripped from his clothes and stepped into the shower, simply leaning on the wall as he let the water rush over him. Peter ended up sinking to the floor, sitting with his back leant against the tiles. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, shamefully sucking at it, closing his eyes as he tried desperately to wrap his head around everything. Sitting here on the floor of his shower, he felt incredibly small. Smaller than he had felt when he was a baby, smaller than he had ever felt before. Flash would have a field day if he saw Peter like this, if he knew everything that was going on in his life at the moment. 

He sat on the floor for a little while longer before finally gathering enough willpower to stand and clean himself, before getting out and drying himself off. Avoiding the mirror at all costs, he quickly got dressed before leaving the bathroom without a second glance. Index finger in his mouth this time, he made his way into the kitchen and took a seat at the small dining table they had, leaning against his elbow. May was bustling around the kitchen, preparing food and a drink, Peter feeling a little bit confused when he saw her pouring the drink into a drink bottle.

He ended up ignoring it, becoming lost in his thoughts once again. He was exhausted, but he was too scared to sleep. He didn't want to have another nightmare, and he didn't want to wet the bed for a third time in one night.

"Here you go." May snapped him back into reality, placing a sandwich and the drink bottle in front of him. He thanked her quietly, taking the bottle into his hand and raised it to his lips. It was warm milk, a painful reminder of what he had lost. His heart began to pound at the memory, trying not to get lost in it as May sat down in front of him. She leant over, latching onto Peter's free hand. "We need to talk more about this. I can't keep washing your sheets every day, honey, it's exhausting. I can't buy you new sheets all the time, either. It costs too much."

Peter's gut jolted, and he almost vomited up the milk he had just drank. May squeezed his hand, as if she had noticed what could have potentially happening, before rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

"There's nothing much we can do." May continued, not looking at him, wiping her eye underneath her glasses. Was she crying? "And you can't just not sleep, either. We might have to uh...I don't know how else to say this, honey. We might have to.. buy protection?"

For a few moments, the words didn't compute with Peter's brain. There were many possibilities of what protection meant, but that couldn't possibly be what May was talking about. Then it clicked.

"No." He snapped instantly, placing the bottle back down onto the table. He ignored the sandwich, not feeling hungry, sending May a horrified look as tears burned at his eyes. "No. No way."

"Then you'll tell Tony." His Aunt's look hardened as she spoke, Peter knowing right then that he was being stupid. He should man up and tell Tony exactly what was happening and seek help, instead of crying about it like a baby. But that barrier was there, blocking him, preventing him from being able to ask for help. He was embarrassed, he didn't want to bother Tony with his issues. But here he was, still thinking of Tony as his Daddy and wetting the bed every single night. Along with everything else, Peter's entire life was a shit show right now, and his Aunt offering help was the least of his worries. "Peter, this isn't working. I hate seeing you in pain like this, baby, I know this isn't easy for you. I know you're scared of what Tony will think, but I know he'll help you. He won't judge you, honey, he's not like. You know that. You can't possibly think that he would hate you for this."

"He can't know." Peter whispered, his lower lip wobbling dangerously. "He won't want me around anymore. It's disgusting, May."

"No, Peter, it's not. He's going to be more hurt if he doesn't find out from you." Peter's heart clenched painfully in his chest, knowing that her words were true and that he was being ridiculous. "You have so many opportunities to get help. The alien that did this to you is still here. We can get this fixed."

"What if it's not Loki?" Peter asked, his gut dropping and dropping and dropping. He might vomit. "What if it's just.. how I am now?"

"Even if it is, there's things we can do to make you better or to manage it. Either way, Tony still has to know. Do you really think he would have looked after you for so long if he didn't like it?" May had a point, she always did. "No matter what age you are, Tony and I love you and we want to help you when you need it. You just need to ask, honey, you know he'll help you. He wants to know what's going on in your life. We both want what's best for you."

Peter was beginning to wonder if May had been talking to Tony behind his back, and wasn't really sure if he was totally angry on the idea. But in some prospect, he was, because this was his decision. On the other hand, he knew he was being ridiculous. But it was hard.

"I know that." Peter replied, trying not to choke up. His thumb was nearing his mouth from the anxiety, and in some way he knew he wasn't going to stop it from entering his mouth. He had become too reliant, he had become dependant on it for comfort. "But I don't want to."

"He'll have to know at some point." A beat of silence. "We have to be realistic about this. Until you are ready, we'll have to compromise. I don't know how else to help you, sweetheart. This is not something I was prepared for."

"I'll get a job." Peter blurted, not really sure where it came from. "So I can pay the-"

"No." May interrupted, shaking her head. "That's not going to happen."

"But how are you going to pay the rent if-"

"We haven't reached that point yet, and we won't." May interrupted a second time, squeezing his hand impossibly tighter. "I'm just saying, honey, that we have to change something about how you're living with this. I know it's awkward, but I'm going to buy you pull ups."

Peter fell silent. He let the words process, embracing the true horror he felt at the declaration his Aunt had made, his thumb prodding at his lips yet again. He was doing everything in his power in order to stop it from entering his mouth, though he was finding it difficult. 

Pull ups?

He slowly raised his eyes from where he had been looking at the uneaten sandwich, meeting the calm ones of May. She had said it rather bluntly, to the point, instead of dancing around it like other people may have tried to do if they were talking about something like this. Peter could hardly believe that he was being told this, that his consistent bed wetting had reached this point, that they were having this conversation at almost one in the morning. He wasn't progressing, he was regressing. He wasn't the same person he was before he was de-aged.

"I don't want to." Peter mumbled, shaking his head with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm not a baby anymore. No."

"I know you're not a baby, Peter." May's voice was beginning to harden, as if she were beginning to lose her temper a little. Peter shrank back, not wanting to feel like he had made his Aunt angry because of this. He didn't say anything else. "I just want you to feel comfortable. It's either this, or I tell Tony. But you and I both know that Tony will find out in the end, no matter what we do."

May leant forwards more, letting go of his hand and instead raised her's to caress his cheek. Peter leaned into the touch, flushing red with embarrassment when he realised what he was doing as May continued to talk.

"I just want you to think about what's going on here. If I had it my way, you wouldn't have been out as Spider-Man at that time. But you were, and there's nothing we can do about it now. You have my support, you have Tony's, you need to tell him." Everything May was saying was one-hundred percent true and he knew it. He knew he was being ridiculous. He knew he was being pathetic. Just the mere thought of Tony turning him away prevented him from agreeing, cursing his paranoia for the barrier blocking him from doing so. "Honey, look at me."

Peter did, chewing absently on his lip. Talking was draining him of whatever ounce of energy he had left, his eyes beginning to burn with more than just tears.

"We're going to figure this out." May said, looking right into his eyes, Peter unable to look away from her intense stare. He was fighting a losing battle. "It's going to get better."

"When?" Peter asked, his voice so small that he wanted to kick himself for sounding so pathetic. May sighed.

"I don't know. But it will."

It fell silent after that, and Peter took it upon himself to get up and move over to the couch and slumped down. He hugged his knees, sleepiness clinging at his eyelids, although he stopped them from closing. There would be no more sleep tonight, that much was true. Peter didn't know if he could stand to have another one of those nightmares, or to wake up with wet sheets again.

The more he thought about it, the more he knew that May was right. The bed wetting wasn't stopping. Maybe it would be best if he did wear pull ups...

Peter hated himself for wanting it, the emotion so deep in his mind that there was no getting rid of it. It was no lie that he was missing things, that he missed the diapers and the pacifiers and the whole entire lot of it. 

He resisted the urge to scream, resting his head on the arm of the couch and continued to hug his knees.

Peter didn't sleep for the rest of the night, just as expected.

He reluctantly got up and had another shower when May decided they were leaving, ignoring the exhaustion as he wiped his eyes free of sleep. Peter's hands were shaking when he met May in the kitchen, wordlessly accepting a hug from his Aunt before following her out of the apartment hand in hand. They greeted their neighbours, though Peter mostly kept his head down as they made their way down the stairs and out to the car.

Peter couldn't stop himself from chewing on the end of his index finger, the nerves being so overwhelming that it was taking over all of his other emotions. He wasn't new to this feeling, of course he wasn't. He was sick of feeling like this.

Once again, he wanted Tony, but there was no way of getting to him until next Friday.

Unless he called.

The thought brought tears to his eyes, and soon he was sent into a downward spiral of his own thoughts.

He needed to tell Tony, Peter knew that, he had been told enough times. He knew he had to do something about it. It was only getting worse, everything May was saying was true and realistic, but he couldn't fathom knowing that there were so many possibilities that could come out of it. No matter how much he knew the majority would never happen, he couldn't help but let them overtake the good ones. What if Tony left him, or laughed at him? Or didn't help him at all?

God, he knew that Tony was nothing like that. The man would have never looked after Peter that long if he wasn't. Why was it so fucking hard for him?

"Honey, it's going to be okay." A hand rested in his from over the console, Peter realising with a jolt that he had started crying. Now that he had noticed, he could feel the burn in his eyes and the panic in his chest. "You can stay in the car, if you like. How about that?"

Peter nodded, sucking on his finger as they stopped at a traffic light. It felt like his chest was closing in on him.

He hadn't brought his Iron Man teddy, so there was no other way for him to comfort himself than sucking on a finger or thumb. 

Peter did stay in the car when May got to the store, curled up on his side with his head between his knees, sucking desperately on his thumb to stop himself from taking May's phone and calling Tony. She had left it sitting in the cupholder, and the urge to pick it up and find Tony's contact was overwhelming. 

Peter ended up coming to a conclusion. He would tell him on Friday. It was only six days, he could wait that long, couldn't he?

That's it. Peter would tell Tony everything on Friday during their lab visit.

It felt like years before May returned, Peter's eyes burning and cheeks flushing pink when he was just able to see what was inside the bag. He looked away, wiping his eyes as discreetly as he could, not looking back until he was sure the bag was in the back seat and out of his view. Humiliation was present, as it usually was, as May backed out of the car space and driving back onto the road.

Peter now found that he hated being out in public. School included.

Even though he knew that it was impossible that people could know, it felt like everyone knew him. Especially when he was at school, where people did know him, but they didn't know that he was the same kid that had been seen with Tony Stark. Even though he believed that, he couldn't help the terrifying thought that everyone around him knew exactly what had happened, what was happening, and who he was. The whole world knew of his toddler form, it wouldn't take long for them to find out his teenager one too.

He completely ignored the fact he also had his identity as Spider-Man to hide, too.

Peter ended up dozing off on the drive home, waking up to May's gentle fingers caressing his cheek. It was as if his body was working on autopilot as he got out of the car, childishly holding May's hand once again as they made their way up the stairs and into the apartment. May came with him to his bedroom, Peter not looking as she took the packages out of the plastic bag and placed them into his underwear drawer. She left with a kiss to the side of his head, Peter taking a seat at his desk and dragged his laptop over. Opening it, he immediately tried to launch himself into his homework like he used to be able to, though he found within five minutes that his mind was wandering and he was losing focus.

He looked at the large mountain of books on his desk, his finger prodding at his mouth. Peter was weeks late on his work, he was failing all of his quizzes and tests. His education was falling apart at his fingertips, though matter how hard he tried he could not focus.

Somehow, he ended up taking himself to some news sites instead of what he was meant to be researching. There, he saw a picture of himself as a toddler, curled up in Tony's arms at the private airport in Malibu. The article was from a few weeks back, around the time when it would have happened, but it still worried Peter nonetheless. His toddler-self had no pants on, just a diaper, and Tony's face represented panic. The next site he took himself to was one talking about him, even mentioning his name, assumption upon assumption as to who the kid was and what their relations to Tony were. Most of them called Tony his biological Dad.

Peter's heart squeezed. It was a little horrifying, seeing himself so small and so fragile. It was different looking back on his real images from his childhood, because that had been his life. Seeing these pictures, Peter knew it was different. Because that was him, his fifteen-year-old mind, he had been conscious in that moment. He remembered everything. It was scary, and knowing that the Tony Stark had gone through it with him did little to comfort him.

He missed his Daddy.

He shook the thought out of his head, his heart rate beginning to pick up the more he read, even though he knew that there was no way that anyone could figure out what actually happened unless they really knew him. Peter rubbed his face before slamming his laptop shut almost hard enough to smash the screen, resisting the tears that were building up behind his eyes from the stress of it all. He shouldn't have looked at the articles.

Peter found himself reaching for his phone, fingers trembling as he picked it up. The fingers of his left hand had disappeared into his mouth while he did so, having to place it on the table in front of him before he dropped it from his hands shaking too much. The phone came to life when he pressed on the home button, his muscles working on autopilot as he navigated his way through his phone, finally reaching the contact he was looking for. Tony's name stared back at him, his lip trembling beneath his fingers as he debated what he should do. He needed to tell Tony. God, he should have when it first started happening, on the first night he had wet his bed.

He pressed call.

Peter didn't raise the phone to his ear, lost in his thoughts for a few moments, realising that a jolt that Tony had answered because he could hear the man's voice. It was faint, faint enough that he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he didn't have his senses, immediately reaching forward to bring the phone back into his hand. He raised it to his ear and removed his fingers from his mouth.

"-ello? Anyone there? Peter?" Event though Peter had just seen the man yesterday, he felt like he hadn't seen Tony for months. He almost burst into tears right there, taking a few more moments to get himself to speak as Tony continued to ask if he was there. "Peter? Are you in trouble?"

"No." Peter finally whispered, wiping his eye when a tear slipped.

"Hey buddy. What's up? Are you crying?" Tony's voice had raised an octave, sounding even more worried and concerned than he had just a few seconds ago. "Do you want me to come and get you? Did something happen?"

Yes. God did Peter want that. He wanted Tony to fix it all, he wanted to be coddled and he wanted to be cared for just like he had when he had been de-aged. Whatever resolve he had left almost cracked, saving himself last second when he replied.

"N-no it's o-okay." Peter stammered, sounding unconvincing even to himself. "I just wanted to talk."

It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"Are you sure that's all?" Tony replied, Peter knowing he didn't buy it. The man sounded scared, and Peter hated that he had been the one to cause that. "You sound like you're crying, Peter. Did something happen today?"

"N-no. Nothing happened."

"Alright. Why are you crying?"

This was Peter's perfect opportunity to tell Tony everything. The bed wetting. Pissing himself while awake. Thumb sucking. Crying all the time. Missing Tony so much that it consumed him. That he couldn't concentrate on his homework. That he was falling apart more and more each day.

"I miss you." Peter blurted, his breath hitching when he realised what exactly he had said. That hadn't been what he had been meaning to say, but there was no taking it back now.

There was a pause on the other end, the silence eating Peter alive. "We saw each other yesterday, ba- buddy. But I miss you too, kiddo."

Peter wondered if he had been hearing things when Tony stumbled on his words, but brushed it off as nothing.

"I don't wanna wait 'till Friday." Peter whispered, fisting his eye, feeling more and more childish as the minutes ticked by. "It's too long."

"Aw, shit, kid." Tony replied, letting out a long and shaky sigh. "I want to come over, I really do, but I've got a shit ton of meetings tomorrow and Pepper wants me to have these new StarkPhones done for her, and I still need to deal with that fu- freaking alien spaceship outside of the compound. I'm so sorry, Petey. But you can talk to me, I'm always here to listen. I can arrange something for later in the week? Before Friday?"

Tony was rambling, Peter could tell. He wasn't going to lie, he was sad that Tony wasn't able to come see him. But he understood, of course he did. Tony must have missed a lot when he was stuck looking after him, and even then he didn't need the man to come right over just because Peter was missing him.

That didn't help keep his racing heart at bay.

"Okay." Peter whispered, the words at the edge of his tongue.

They ended up speaking for good over an hour, Peter feeling too out of it to remember most of what was said. Their phone call had ended hours ago. All he knew was that he still hadn't told Tony about his issues, and he was currently staring at the package of pull ups as if it was about to jump out and bite him. His cheeks were flushed red, not wanting to put one on. It was stupid. He shouldn't have to do this, he was fifteen. 

It took a lot of willpower to put one of the things on, immediately yanking his pants up and heading towards his bed just so he wouldn't have to stand in it. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, he could hear every crinkle that the pull up made as he moved, and immediately curled up in his bed with tears in his eyes. 

Peter didn't bother to switch the lamp off, staring at the wall with burning eyes. This was humiliating.

Against all of his wishes, Peter ended up falling asleep. He woke up hours later to a warm lower half, though his sheets were all dry around him.

He wasn't sure whether to be thankful or more embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i also want to thank everyone for all of the kind comments and kudos! it really means a lot to me and inspires me to keep going.
> 
> once again, sorry for the shitty chapter i hope the next one is better


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big warning for second hand embarrassment! (poor peter)
> 
> 6.4k word chapter! i hope this makes up for my horrendous uploading schedule (sorry)
> 
> highkey scared to post this but enjoy the second hand embarrassment :)

Peter had been hoping that the pull ups would make waking up more comfortable.

It didn't, he had been a fool for thinking they wood.

He remembered the diapers. He felt safe in those, he had an excuse for using them. His bodily functions were no longer in control, and he couldn't help it. Now he didn't have that excuse, and there was no possible way that he could find comfort out of the pull ups. It was just so... wrong. Peter no longer had an excuse for the things he had become used to, and he still couldn't believe that he was wearing, and using, pull ups. The nightmares only seemed to worsen, and every day he looked at himself in the mirror there was always that thing about him that was different. It constantly frustrated him that he couldn't figure out what it was.

Peter continued dream about the night the Vulture dumped all that concrete on him, when he crashed the plane, though in all of them he would be in his toddler body instead of his normal one. They had been scary enough when he was normal, but now that he kept dreaming of himself in a younger body, they had never been so traumatising. He felt so defenceless, so useless, and he was always heading towards his death crying out for Tony before he woke up from the nightmare.

Friday was coming slow. It felt like it had been months since Peter had called Tony, when it had only been around three days. 

It was currently Wednesday afternoon, and Peter was in school. He had been on edge all day, more so than usual, having this gut feeling that something was going to go wrong for him. It wasn't even his spider senses telling him this anymore, it was mostly his own mind tormenting him whenever he wasn't occupied by something else. Peter hadn't been out as Spider-Man for a little while, finding that he couldn't muster up the motivation no matter how much he tried. He was so stressed out that it was beginning to give him headaches, the constant fear that he was going to wet himself in public looming up the very front of his mind, alongside his need to see Tony.

He was currently hunched over his desk, trying his best to work on the complex math problems he had been given. Peter could have usually done these in his sleep, but it felt like he couldn't do the simplest of addition anymore. His brain didn't seem to want to cooperate, always reverting back to everything he was missing and all of the fears inside of his head. It almost felt like a huge chunk of his life had been ripped out, leaving him with a sense of loss that never seemed to want to go away. It was almost like someone he loved had just died. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The numbers blurred on the page when Peter began to grow frustrated, realising with a jolt that he was about to cry. He hadn't even realised that the tears were burning until it was too late, keeping his head ducked down as he tried to wipe them as discretely as possible. Staring at the page in front of him, he tried to work out the problem through his misty eyes. Anger bubbled up in his chest when he just could not get his brain to fucking focus, screwing his eyes shut for a few moments before opening them again. A tear dropped onto his page, smearing the ink, Peter hastily wiping away the others that were quick to follow.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Peter turned his head despite knowing whoever it was would see him crying, relieved when it was only Ned. His best friend was giving him a worried glance, his gaze softening when their eyes met. The room was silent, so they couldn't really talk without being heard, Ned mouthing a silent, "Are you okay?"

Peter nodded, probably not convincing, and turned back to his work before anyone else could notice his tears. He had already heard people talking about the incident in the cafeteria with the Iron Man teddy, which was also another thing he was missing, which just added onto all of the weight he currently had on his shoulders. Flash had been tormenting him all day about the toy, and how he had cried like a baby in front of almost the entire school. Peter knew May would have let him stay home from school if he asked, given everything going on, but he couldn't afford it. He was already failed all of his classes. All of them.

Peter, in his life, had almost never failed a class. He had always been a good student, handed things in on time and always paying attention in class. A teacher's pet, is what Flash would have called him. The petty insult never bothered him, and it still didn't. He was proud of his achievements. Though partially, because he no longer was a teacher's pet. He was hardly even a student anymore.

Peter looked back down at his sheet of problems. He picked up his pen and stuck the tip in his mouth, chewing on it instead of sucking. Anxiety surrounded him like a bad smell, consuming and making him feel like he was no longer in his body. It felt like he was standing on the outside, watching himself break down and lose himself in the past. It felt like there was nothing he could do to stop it, and in reality, there wasn't anything he could do.

He couldn't stop himself from crying now, even though he so desperately wanted to. The lingering thought that something bad was going to happen continued to hover in the air around him, making him feel skittish and nervous. There was no way Peter was going to be able to concentrate on the problems given to him, and could rather only concentrate the real life problems he was facing.

The images of himself in a pull up was also right up there, tormenting and testing him. His own mind would tell him how stupid he was being, and that he should just wash his sheets himself instead of letting May do it. Of course, like all things he had around him now, he was reminded of the safety and security he felt when he was with Tony. He had been around Tony almost every day, it had been constant. There had always been the thought that Loki would never age him back up, and he had subconsciously decided to just let the childish tendencies take over incase that was reality. Maybe he had let it in too much, because now he couldn't think about anything else. He couldn't think about anything else since Tony kissed his forehead the day he left the Compound, when he thought everything would be okay only to wake up with wet sheets that same night.

Someone snickered. Immediately, Peter assumed it was about him. It most likely was. Tears were dripping onto his page and soaking into the paper, ruining more ink and smearing numbers. Peter hardly cared, he wasn't doing the problems anyways. Too busy focussing on trying not to make a sound, he hardly noticed his senses tingling before something hit him in the back of the head. It didn't hurt, it had happened to him enough that he knew it was a screwed up piece of paper. 

It had come from the back of the room, so it had to be Flash. Always was. The boy hadn't left him alone since Friday.

Peter never should have come back to school.

But if he hadn't, it would make returning later even worse. Everyone would know why he didn't turn up, and would make him seem weaker than he already was. They would think he was more of a baby. 

He desperately wished that he had his Iron Man plushie with him. Tony still had it, and Peter felt lost without it. Hardly hiding the fact that he had become reliant on the toy as a substitution for Tony, he tried his very hardest to at least do one of the problems. His eyes blurred. The frustration he was feeling made him even more overwhelmed, his shoulders shuddering with something that wasn't related to the cold.

Another scrunched up ball of paper hit him in the back of the head, and Peter ignored it again and refused to show that he acknowledged it. Fuck, he hated Flash.

It was hardly a minute later before another paper came flying, this one landing on the top of Peter's head before toppling onto his desk, right in Peter's vision. He could see that there were words written inside of it, but merely wiped his eyes with one hand and grabbed the paper with the other. Without missing a beat, he tossed the paper onto the floor without opening it. Thanks to his super hearing, he heard the grumbled sigh that Flash let out behind him. Despite being in tears, Peter smiled just a little in the satisfaction that he had pissed Flash off. Again.

Peter quickly glanced up at the clock up at the front of the room, his heart beginning to speed up when he realised they were hardly halfway through class. There was still just over half an hour to go, and his panic wasn't easing. The thought that something bad was going to happen continued to torment him, along with the tears and Flash throwing paper at his head. 

He so desperately wanted to go back to Malibu, where there was no one to see him but Tony, Happy and Pepper. Peter missed all of them, most of all Tony of course. It was strange that he missed Happy, too, but the man had been there for him too. As had Pepper. They had all helped him, he had grown a connection with them all that he couldn't seem to shake. Even Rhodey.

Peter shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. There was no use thinking about everything he missed, but that was all he seemed to be doing.

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realised his teacher, Ms. Westbrook, had gotten up and was now standing in front of him. 

Peter looked up at her with watery eyes, his hands beginning to shake when she met her concerned ones. "Is everything alright, Peter?"

Peter liked his math teacher. She was a nice woman, she always helped him when he didn't understand something and was kind, like right now. In a way, she reminded him of Pepper. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts before nodding, wiping his eyes as he felt the whole entire class' ones on him. Ms. Westbrook didn't look like she believed him, but nodded nonetheless and let him be. She returned to the front of the classroom, sending Peter a warm smile when she noticed him watching. He didn't return it, looking back down at his paper.

Another piece of paper hit him in the back of the head not even five minutes later, and Peter ignored it just like he had the first two. He glanced at the clock again. Half an hour. He could do this.

After almost twenty minutes, the tears finally subsided. He had made no progress on his math problems, using all of his energy and brain power to stop himself from sobbing in the middle of class. He had no idea what he was even crying about anymore, but he did know that it was a mixture of things. Maybe he was heading towards another mental breakdown, he had no idea. He almost didn't want to know, since the last one had ended with him sobbing onto a literal God.

In the last half an hour, a total of six pieces of paper had hit the back of his head. Peter was now surrounded by them, all littering the floor around his desk. 

Relief flooded his system when the bell rang, signifying that it was now lunch break. He stood up and began shoving all of his things in his backpack, the paper with smeared ink and unanswered questions going in as well. He didn't move to clean up the paper balls littered around his desk.

He had been lifting his bag onto his shoulder when Flash knocked Peter's shoulder with his own when he walked past, causing Peter to lose grip on his backpack straps and drop his backpack onto the floor. He didn't react, only wiping his once again burning eyes as he gathered his things up off the floor.

"Peter." Ms. Westbrook's voice cut through his thoughts, Peter lifting his head from where he had been bending down to pick up his backpack. There were few students left in the room, Ned and Michelle included who were waiting for him. Peter hadn't seen Michelle all class, and was surprised by the hint of worry that was visible on her face. She was hiding it better than Ned, who looked like he was preparing to give Peter one of the biggest hugs he could. Did he really look that shitty? "Could you please stay back? I need to have a word."

Peter nodded, his gut dropping. Was he in trouble? 

Ned looked defeated at the teacher's words, himself and Michelle turning around to leave. Before he turned around, Ned gave him a comforting smile that Peter couldn't return even if he tried. Michelle nodded once, her own way of showing comfort, before the two of them left the room. Peter made his way up to Ms. Westbrook's desk as slowly as he could as the remaining students made their way out of the room, some of them giving him a sad look, some looking like they were trying not to laugh. Betty sent him a comforting smile, and Peter really wished he could have returned it. He liked Betty, she had always been nice to him.

When he reached Ms. Westbrook's desk, she stood up and made her way over to the classroom door before closing it. At her return, Peter wiped his eyes again, trying to calm himself down. She didn't look mad, she just looked... concerned?

"I understand that you're having some trouble, yes?" She began, smiling sadly. Peter didn't nod or shake his head, not sure what she was talking about. His mental health, or his grades. "I've noticed that your grades have declined spectacularly over the last few weeks. I asked some of your other teachers, and they have the same results. Is everything alright, Peter?"

Peter chewed on his lip, desperately wanting to stick his thumb in his mouth to help clear out some of the anxiety. There was no way he could do that here in front of his teacher, though. Peter nodded twice, looking down at her desk rather than her face.

"I'm having a hard time believing that." Somehow, Peter knew she would say something like that. His fingers clenched around his backpack straps as he continued chewing on his lip, trying not to let the emotions bubble up a second time. "You've been my student for a few years now, Peter, and this is very unlike you. You're a smart boy, we both know that. I've noticed you've been struggling in today's class. Not answering math problems has been a common occurrence for you over the last bunch of classes, hasn't it?"

Peter nodded once. He didn't say a word, fearing that if he tried a sob would come out instead.

Ms. Westbrook continued to talk. "I know you're very capable of doing the work. Is there something going on at home that's causing you to be distracted?"

Sort of.

Peter shook his head. He wasn't about to tell his math teacher about all of his issues.

"You can talk to any teacher here at this school, we're all here and willing to listen if there is anything you feel you can't tell a parent or your friends. I can always help you out of class, if you feel you can't concentrate or don't want to come up to me in front of the other students." Peter nodded a few times, knowing he would do neither. "It might help to talk about what is bothering you, and help you get your grades back to..."

Ms. Westbrook's voice was soon drowned out by that familiar twinge in his bladder.

Panic encased his heart immediately, fear running through his veins at an alarming speed as tears began to rush to his eyes. He looked up, the look on his face must have been bad from the way it stopped Ms. Westbrook from speaking. "I need to- I need to go."

He had approximately a minute before it would happen, and it hadn't happened since that day with Ned. Peter had always made it to the toilet in time, he had only been having accidents at night. 

Peter tried to leave, but Ms. Westbrook's hand on his wrist stopped him. No. No. 

No, no, no.

"Peter, is everything alright?" She asked again, which was a pretty stupid fucking question if you asked him. Did he look alright? No!

The sudden and overwhelming anger caused him to yank his wrist from her grip, the way his teacher flinched causing him to regret his aggressive action immediately. What he was feeling was familiar to the one he had as a toddler, when he was on the way to having a tantrum...

His anger faded as fast as it had come, replaced with the panic. He wasn't going to make it, even if he left now.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry." Peter rushed out, panicked, not being able to stop himself from sticking the tip of his index finger in his mouth. 

It was as if everything happened in slow motion. First, he felt it. He felt the warmth running down his legs, telling him immediately exactly what had happened. Next, he saw it. Peter looked down to see his jeans damp around his crotch and all down his legs and into his socks. There was a puddle on the floor, and he couldn't stop the hoarse sob that left his mouth when it ended. 

He thrust his hands over his eyes and sobbed, so terribly embarrassed that he couldn't even move. This was worse than Ned seeing him piss himself. This was worse than if Tony had seen him piss himself. This was his teacher, in his school, where there were hundreds of other students. Students like Flash. 

"Oh.." He heard his teacher trail off, sounding horribly surprised. "Oh, Peter. It's alright."

No, it wasn't. He'd just pissed himself in school.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and he couldn't help but lean into it. Peter was desperate for comfort, he didn't care who it was from. This was already one of the worst moments in his entire life, and he had no idea how to comprehend it. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't go outside, he couldn't let other students see him. He would never be able to show his face in school ever again.

"Come over here, Peter." Ms. Westbrook gently led him away from the puddle and over to one of the desks in the far corner of the room, one that wasn't visible from the door's window. She ordered him to sit down, Peter wincing from how uncomfortable it was. The warmth was beginning to lessen, and the liquid was beginning to go cold. He let his backpack fall from his shoulders before leaning onto the desk, sobbing into his hands and refusing to look at his teacher. How was he ever supposed to return back to this class? "I'm going to get the nurse for some new clothes, okay? I'll try be quick. Sit tight."

Peter hardly nodded, only removing his hands when he was sure Ms. Westbrook had left. He pushed his chair so he was in the very corner of the room, pulling his knees to his chest and shoved his thumb in his mouth. He couldn't help it, burying his face in his knees and sobbed. Hopefully, no one else would enter the room. He wished Ned was here.

The feeling of being covered in his own piss was terrible, and digging a hole to die in sounded better than facing Ms. Westbrook and possibly the nurse. He needed Tony to be here. May was in work today, working double shifts and wouldn't be home until late. Peter wanted his Daddy more than ever right now, knowing despite all of his worries that the man couldn't possibly judge him for this. He should have told Tony. 

Now, Peter was regretting everything. He should have told Tony the first time it happened, and this wouldn't have happened. 

These thoughts began to eat Peter alive as he sat there in his own piss, feeling sorry for himself. May was right.

It felt like years before Ms. Westbrook returned, nurse in toe. He quickly removed his thumb from his mouth, wiping the spit away on his shirt before they could notice. This nurse with Ms. Westbrook was one of the new ones working at the school, one Peter hadn't met, his cheeks flushing redder than before when her nose scrunched a little in disgust when she looked at him. In her arms were some new pants and underwear, and even socks. Peter didn't know whose they were, and he didn't really want to find out.

"You can get changed in there." Ms. Westbrook pointed to one of the supply closets. "I understand you might not want to go outside."

Peter nodded, wiping his eyes that continuously welled up with more tears. He wanted Daddy.

Without a word, Peter stood up and winced at the feeling of wet jeans. He shuffled over to the nurse when she didn't come over to him, grabbing the clothes and immediately disappearing into the supply closet that Ms. Westbrook was holding the door open for him. She closed it after he entered and turned on the light, Peter letting out another sob when he realised what he was doing. A teacher and a nurse had seen his accident. He had an accident at school. He fucking pissed himself at school.

He stood in the middle of the supply closet for a few moments, watery eyes raking over the stacks of papers and things teachers used for classes. Peter wasn't even sure why a maths classroom would have a supply closet, but that wasn't on the top of his list of worries. He didn't feel the slightest bit comfortable getting changed somewhere so... public, but it was the best the was going to get. Ignoring his discomfort, Peter peeled off his wet jeans as quickly as he could and dumped them on the floor.

Doing the same with his boxers, he quickly pulled on the ones provided to him by the school and the sweatpants. Distantly, Peter wondering once again where these had come from. He peeled off his piss-sodden socks next, cringing at the uncomfortable feeling. Soon, the socks that weren't his own were on and he was re-tying his shoes. 

Once he was finished, he began to feel the itch. Mostly around his upper thighs and privates, and he knew what that was going to result in. He didn't want to acknowledge it.

It took Peter another five minutes after he got changed to gather up his own clothes, holding them in a heap in his arms before mustering up the courage to leave the safety of the supply closet. Ms. Westbrook and the nurse were outside waiting for him, caught up in conversation before they noticed him. Ms. Westbrook sent him a sad look, handing him a plastic bag. He wondered where that had come from.

"I want to go home." Peter said without really thinking, wiping his tears away. Ms. Westbrook's face softened even more, a sad smile appearing at her lips.

"That's alright. You've had a tough day, haven't you?" She pitied him. Peter wasn't really sure whether he liked that or not, but ignored it nonetheless and nodded. "Go on, follow Casey here to the nurses office."

He knew where the nurses office was, but followed the nurse either way. Spectacularly, they didn't get intercepted by any other students on their way. Peter ignored the younger boy who was in the nurses office when he arrived. He took a seat in one of the chairs, shoving the bag containing his soiled clothes underneath it. If he couldn't see it, maybe he could forget about what happened.

He shut that thought down immediately. There was no fucking way Peter was going to be able to forget about what had just happened.

The nurse, Casey her name was apparently, sat down at her desk. There were windows, so Peter could see her. She didn't spare him a glance.

Peter then looked to the other boy in the room. Maybe a year younger, holding a sick bag. That was when Peter noticed the stench of vomit, and his nose wrinkled. That, and the smell of piss, mixed together in one big disgusting stench. Peter's stomach rolled, though he forced himself to tune it out. This was a time when he wished he didn't have enhanced senses. 

The boy looked away from him and rolled his eyes when he noticed Peter's distaste, pale face almost blending in with the white wall behind him.

Casey was on the phone. Probably calling May. She wouldn't pick up, especially on her double shifts. She wouldn't even have her phone. Peter knew who exactly the emergency contact was, and was anticipating his arrival already. He didn't care about Tony not knowing about his secret anymore. He regretted not saying anything. Fuck, he regretted everything and he just wanted his Daddy to make it all better.

He had been calming down until he thought about Tony, the tears once again returning at full force as he strained to keep them in. Through the window, Peter could see Casey frowning and looking through her computer, looking for another number he supposed. She would get one, and would most likely be surprised at who is on the other end.

What if he didn't pick up? What if Peter was stuck here for the rest of the day, and had to take the subway home? His stomach churned at the thought, along with the smell, more tears rushing to his eyes faster than he could comprehend them. He was beginning to get a headache from clenching his face muscles so hard in an attempt to stop crying, his jaw also beginning to ache from keeping his mouth shut so tightly. Everything hurt. He was itchy. He wanted Daddy.

Peter couldn't care less about calling Tony Daddy anymore. He had just pissed himself at school in front of a teacher. There was nothing worse than that, whatever remaining dignity had been flushed down the toilet. There would be none left by the time Tony arrived. 

Maybe it was a terrible thought, but he would much rather get stabbed in the stomach than wet himself in front of someone again. It had already happened in front of Ned, and now a teacher.

Peter's attention was reverted back to Casey when he spotted the look of shock on her face. Peter tuned in on her conversation, letting his enhanced hearing do all the work. 

"Do I have the right number, uh, sir? It says that you are the emergency contact of Peter Parker-"

"Yes, that's me. What's wrong with my kid?"

Peter almost sobbed at the distant sound of Tony's voice, but had to force himself to stay composed. The boy was looking at him with raised eyebrows, though was leaning over the bag as if he might vomit again. Peter ignored his presence entirely. 

"Right- uh- I'm not sure he'd want me to tell you over the ph-"

"Where is he?"

"He's in the nurses office. He had a, uh, incident. He wants to be picked up and his Aunt is not picking up."

"I'm already on my way." Peter's pounding heart eased up just a little at those words. "Can I talk to him?"

"I think it's best he tell you in person." Casey repeated, Peter leaning back against his chair and closed his eyes. Daddy was coming. "He's really shaken up. How long will you be, so I can tell him?"

"Half an hour." Tony's voice came through on the other end, along with the very distant sound go a car engine. "Maybe twenty if a few laws are broken."

Casey let out a strained and nervous laugh. "I'll let him know."

Tony hung up on her. 

Peter didn't open his eyes and simply listened as Casey entered the main room, standing in front of him. "Your, um, Tony is coming?"

It sounded like a question. Peter wanted to smile but couldn't. He peeled his eyes open just a little and nodded, knowing she was unaware that he could hear the whole conversation. She sent him a strained smile before turning to the other boy. "Your mother should be here soon."

The boy nodded and continued hunching over the bag. Peter looked away.

The boy left almost ten minutes later, his mother coming into the office and looking especially worried about her son. Peter watched them leave, knowing that that will be him soon. A girl came into the office a few minutes after that, her eyes red and nose running. Her voice was scratchy. A cold, probably.

Peter's lower half was becoming increasingly itchy as he sat there, moving uncomfortably in his chair as he tried not to itch it himself. He chewed constantly on his lip, splitting it just a few minutes before he heard footsteps coming down the hall. His resolve quickly began to crack when the man himself entered the room, being escorted by Principal Morita. Peter tried desperately to get ahold of himself because of the other girl sitting in the room, whose jaw was on the floor when she realised who was there to pick him up. Tony's eyes scanned the room until they rested on Peter, immediately rushing over and kneeling down to his level.

Immediately, Tony's eyes went to his split lip. "Who did this?"

"I did." Peter mumbled, leaning into his Daddy's touch. Tony swiped away the blood with his sleeve, looking confused for a few moments. "I chewed on it too much."

Tony frowned, thumb now wiping away the tears that were still rapidly falling down his cheeks. At this rate, Peter had been crying for almost an hour and a half. He was exhausted and humiliated. Almost subconsciously, Peter reached out and grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt, realising with a jolt that he had been wearing a suit. The only thing missing was the blazer, and Peter instantly connected the dots. Tony had most likely been in a meeting, and the number on Peter's forms was his private one. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, trying to soothe himself and forget about how busy Tony had told him he was.

"What happened, buddy?" Tony mumbled, eyes now raking over Peter's entire body looking for injuries. Peter saw them pause on the bag under the chair, before they moved back up to meet his. "Tell me in the car, yeah?"

Peter nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak.

Tony began to stand, grabbing Peter's hand that was wound in his undershirt and held it instead. He helped Peter up, Peter noticing his frown when he winced from both the itchiness and pain in his lower regions. Tony didn't say a word, pointing to the bag. "Is that yours?"

Peter nodded once, Tony bending down and picking up the bag. Peter didn't look at it, leaning into his Daddy's side when the man's hand left his and an arm wrapped around his shoulder instead. He ignored the girl who was still watching in shock, pressing his face into Tony's chest when he moved over to Casey's desk. 

"Do I need to sign anything?" Casey nodded at Tony's words, placing a form in front of him.

"Just to sign him out. I hope you feel better, Peter." Peter didn't acknowledge her in the slightest, hiding his face in Tony's shirt instead. Tony removed his arm quickly to sign the paper, since his other hand was occupied by the bag of Peter's clothes, and before Peter knew it they were out of the school and at the car. Peter wasn't surprised when Happy was there, leaning on the car with that same weird, worried look on his face.

Happy didn't say a word, opening the door for himself and Tony. Peter clambered into the middle seat, Tony getting in beside him and tossing the bag onto the floor on Peter's right. 

Immediately Peter leaned onto Tony, resting his head in the crook of his mentor's neck and sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes a few times. He couldn't help but stick the tip of his index finger into his mouth, feeling terrified, nervous and sick all at once. Tony rubbed his arm, resting his chin on the top of Peter's head.

It was then, Peter realised he forgot his backpack. He had left it in the classroom.

He hardly cared, because the suit or his Iron Man plush wasn't in there. Peter had no motivation to go out as Spider-Man, so the suit wasn't needed. This was the one day he also didn't bring spare clothes. This was an accident waiting to happen, and of course it would happen on a day where Peter was the least prepared and had the most idiotic frame of mind.

"You can drive now, Hap." Tony said, quietly as if he thought Peter was asleep. Peter felt him shift a few times before a kiss was pressed to his forehead, an arm once again around his shoulders. Tony did both of their seatbelts before rubbing Peter's arm in soothing motions, looking down at him. Peter didn't meet his eye, looking at the door handle instead. "What happened, kiddo? Where's May?"

"Double shifts." Peter mumbled, his voice all croaky. He didn't answer the first question. He felt Tony nod against his head.

Silence stretched on until Tony spoke again. "You didn't answer my first question. What happened at school?"

Now or never. Peter had to do it now, or he never would. He also had no valid explanation.

"I h-had an accident." As soon as he said the words, Tony tensed, and Peter felt like he was about to freak out. 

"Accident as in..." Tony trailed, squeezing him tighter as if he senses Peter's internal panic. "Oh, baby. It's okay." 

Peter burst into tears from the nickname, and also from the fact that Tony knew. Although, Tony didn't know the half of it. Tony shushed him, pressing another kiss to his temple as he continued rubbing his arm in those soothing motions. Peter's finger was still in his mouth, more so chewing than sucking on it. He was chewing on it from the intense fear he was feeling, and that he didn't want to be seen sucking on his fingers like a toddler. It would look like that either way, but he couldn't find the energy to care. 

Tony seemed to notice what he was doing, gently pulling his finger away and holding his hand instead. "It's okay, Peter. It's okay. Bud, it was an accident. It happens."

Peter shook his head, letting Tony hold his hand. He didn't reply.

"Are your clothes in the bag?" Tony asked, his voice sounding more concerned than it had been. Peter nodded. "Has this been happening a lot?"

Peter took a few moments to gather the courage to talk. "O-once."

Tony tensed momentarily before relaxing, squeezing his hand. "You should have told me. I want you to be honest, Peter. Is there anything else going on that I don't know about?"

Peter's lower lip was caught between his teeth as he fidgeted, his stomach rolling uncomfortably. He was terrified of what Tony might think, even though he had already been comforting and understanding. The bed wetting wasn't as bad as wetting himself at school. But in some ways it was because he had to wear pull ups. Or, Peter was just fucking confused and had no idea what to do with himself.

All these thoughts made one big mess in Peter's mind, ending up with him in tears once again as he nodded his head. Tony's body tensed again, his hand squeezing Peter's hand impossibly tight. The man didn't say anything, seemingly waiting for Peter to say it himself. Peter took himself back to what May had said, using his free hand to fist his eyes as he tried his hardest to compose himself. He had a headache, his stomach hurt, and all he wanted was to cuddle with his Daddy. That's it.

But he won't get that after he tells Tony.

Peter shoved that thought away, pressing his face closer to Tony instead. "I-I w-wet the b-ed."

Peter choked on the last word, screwing his eyes shut and hiding in his Daddy's chest. Tony's arms wrapped fully around him, Peter's hand coming up to fist his shirt material once again as he waited for a reaction. The seatbelt was tugging uncomfortably at his neck, but that was the least of his worries as he waited for Tony to say something. 

"Has it been happening since you uh... grew up?" It was as if Tony didn't know what to call it. Peter nodded, and Tony tensed. "You should have told me sooner, Pete."

"I'm s-sorry." Peter whispered, though he doubted Tony heard it. 

"It's alright. I know it's hard." Tony whispered, chin resting on the top of Peter's head. "Does May know?"

Peter nodded and said nothing. He was done talking.

"We'll talk more about this when you've calmed down, yeah?" Tony said after a few moments, Peter nodding again. Another kiss was delivered, to the back of his head this time, before Tony started rubbing soothing circles into his back. "It's okay, baby. We'll figure it out together."

Peter tried not to choke up at the nickname for a second time, but once again failed. It felt like he would never stop crying.

In truth, he only did stop when he was soothed into sleep by Tony's whispered words and the hand rubbing comforting circles into his back.

He didn't have any nightmares, and the thought of possibly wetting himself again had been momentarily forgotten.

Peter was content, because his Daddy was finally there.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i just got home from watching spider-man ffh and.... i have no words to describe how i feel it's such an amazing movie
> 
> in honour of that, i decided i should probs post this... next chapter will be a while since i haven't got a clue what to write next. feel free to leave some suggestions that will hopefully give me some inspiration!
> 
> this isn't edited as usual so ignore potential mistakes

Peter was forced back into the land of the living when they arrived at the Compound, waking up to the feeling of his head pounding and his nose clogged with snot. Tony was currently wiping the drying tears away from his cheeks as Peter sat up, groggy and confused. 

For a moment, he was in a state of calm because Tony was there. But then he remembered why Tony was there, and what had happened at school, causing panic to encase his heart as he looked down at his lap. His body sagged against Tony in relief when there was no dark spot or warm feeling in his lap. The sweatpants that weren't his own were still dry. This was only the second time he had fallen asleep without wetting himself, but the thought didn't even excite him anymore. He knew it was probably because of the majority of the liquid that had been in his bladder was gone.

Though, Peter might have even wanted the warm feeling he was now so used to waking up to instead of the burn. It must have been a little over hour since it happened, and his lower half was beginning to burn the more he realised it. There was no doubt that a rash was forming because he hadn't cleaned himself up properly, and there was definitely pee still clinging to his skin. He shifted a little to test the pain, wincing when it burned especially bad. Great. Just perfect.

Tony must have seen his grimace, Peter looking up to meet the concerned eyes of his mentor. Tony, if possible, looked worse than he had when Peter had last seen him, and he hadn't realised until now. The bags under his eyes were impossibly darker and there seemed to be more wrinkles on his face, but his eyes were soft and filled with worry. Peter looked away from the gaze, recognising it. He had seen it a lot when he had been de-aged, but he hadn't really noticed it until now.

"Did you clean yourself up?" Tony asked, swiping at his cheek one more time before holding Peter's hand instead. When Peter shook his head, Tony's face hardened in the slightest way. Peter couldn't tell if the anger was directed at him or not, but dragged the comfort out of the hand holding his nonetheless. He ignored the racing of his heart.

"Does it hurt?" Nod. "Did that nurse give you a chance to clean yourself up?" Shake. "Shit, kiddie. It's alright." 

Peter gradually figured that the anger wasn't directed at him, relaxing only slightly. Though, his moment of relaxation disappeared instantly when Tony let go of his hand and began to move, unbuckling himself. Happy opened the door for them moments later, and Peter felt the anxiety churning in his stomach when Tony's body contact began to lesson. Some rational part of his mind told him that Tony couldn't possibly be leaving him here, but the other side of him screamed anxiety. Why did he feel anxious when Tony was literally just there in arms length?

He tried not to let it show as Tony stepped out of the car, though it was hard to resist the need to reach out for Tony and to grab his sleeve, his hand, something. Along with this, he was beginning to remember his day in excruciating detail, basically reliving everything that had happened as he watched Tony get out of the car. He recalled how he had cried almost all through Math class. How he had been called to stay behind to talk to Ms. Westbrook. How he had felt that twinge before he had completely humiliated himself for a second time, and the fact that Tony knew everything now.

Peter shuffled out of the car next, his head continuing to pound as he made sure to grab the plastic bag on the way. He winced with almost every movement, trying his hardest not to show the pain as he got onto his feet. Face flushing with shame, he noticed that Happy was still stood there and watching him, his eyes sad. He had probably heard everything.

When the man noticed Peter looking, he smiled very slightly and clapped a hand on his shoulder in some sort of comfort. Peter looked away, catching his lower lip between his teeth and began to chew as he looked for Tony, even though he already knew that the man was there.

Peter didn't really know how to react when Tony grabbed the bag and held it himself, wrapping his other arm around Peter's shoulders. Peter felt the anxiety calm when the contact returned, pressing into Tony's side and sighed through his mouth. He couldn't breathe through his nose because of how clogged up it was, merely sniffling instead. Together, he and Tony made their way over to the lift.

Peter's skin was burning. It felt terrible, it made him limp, and he hoped that his enhanced healing would take it all away. Tony wrapped him up in a hug once they were in the lift, Peter relishing in the contact for as long as he could. Thankfully, this time there were no one-eyed Gods of Thunder interfering their ride to Tony's floor, and Peter was able to save himself the unnecessary embarrassment. Happy hadn't followed them up, and Peter found himself feeling grateful. He didn't want to see anyone else. Not even Pepper anymore, or even May because he knew he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

Thankfully, Pepper wasn't there and therefore Peter didn't have to tell her everything too. He remained silent as Tony lead him into the the hall, moving slow as if he knew how much Peter's genitals were stinging. Peter hadn't payed any attention to the fact that this might happen when he was getting changed, more focussed on the fact that he had just fucking wet himself in front of a teacher, in a public place. 

Tears rushed to his eyes as he had the thought, hardly able to believe that it had actually happened. One of his worst nightmares had actually happened, and there was nothing he could do to redeem himself. Ned and Michelle would find out eventually, or they would start asking him where he was. Only Ms. Westbrook, the nurse and Tony knew he had left school. Peter was sure that May had been called.

"Buddy." Tony's voice snapped him back into reality, the tears not yet slipping from his already puffy eyes. Tony had led him into his bedroom, concerned eyes boring into Peter's. He looked away, looking at his shoes instead. "Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

Peter's heart physically clenched. He went to stick his thumb in his mouth, but stopped short. It wasn't clear if Tony noticed or not.

"Have a shower." Tony said next, before wrapping him up in a hug. Peter flinched when the burning intensified from the pressure of his clothing on him, though he ignored it and let his Dad hug him. "Come to the living room when you're done, yeah?"

Peter nodded, reluctantly pulling away. Tears still ghosted around his eyes, causing Tony to make a face. He said no more, gripping his shoulder and squeezing comfortingly before stepping out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Peter simply stood in the middle of his room for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He forced himself not to cry again, though it was all he wanted to do. It had been something he resorted to when he was de-aged, and that didn't seem to have changed at all. It should have. He should be able to keep on top of his emotions like he used to, he should be able to act the same as he had before. He was supposed to be normal, not some weird toddler-teenager mix. He was already a mutant. This was just one more thing to add to the list of flaws.

Wiping his eyes to stop a tear from leaking, he shuffled over to his drawer and grabbed some of the clothes. Next, the bathroom, and Peter instantly stripped himself of his shoes, the stranger's socks, sweatpants and boxers. He pointedly ignored the angry red of his thighs and other areas, pulling off his shirt before turning the water on. 

Once he had stepped into the shower, his gaze shifted longingly to the bathtub. It was right there, unused, Peter desperately wishing it was one of those shower and bathtubs that were joined. Then he would have an excuse for wanting a bath.

His skin burned and burned and burned under the heat, but he forced himself to ignore it. His healing would take over soon enough, and the rash would be gone along with the pain that came with it. Peter would just have to wait it out.

Now that he was alone, Peter really had time to think. This was when the embarrassment truly sunk in, and are reality of what might happen next clear in his mind. How could he return to school after this? Did Flash know? 

Flash couldn't possibly know. Only the teacher and the nurse did. No one else was there.

But, paranoia was Peter's best friend. 

After a long while of just standing there sucking on his thumb, he finally willed himself to actually clean himself up. He couldn't prevent the whimper from leaving his mouth when he began washing himself down there, refusing to see the red coloured skin. All it was was a reminder of his very public accident, and that there's the possibility of it happening again. What if it had happened during class? What if Flash had been there, along with the entire class? What if it had happened when Ned and Michelle were still in the room?

Peter's heart began to pound harder than it had before, his hands beginning to shake so much the bar of soap slipped out of his hand and fell onto the floor. The possibilities of what could had happened continued to circulate through his mind, taunting him, consuming his brain. Instead of bending down to pick up the soap, Peter instead let his body sink to the floor and curled up into a small ball. Standing was tiring, and he knew he panicking. The sound of the water in his ears began to pick up, Peter now feeling as though he was alone in pouring rain. Not in the Avengers Compound with his Daddy, but outside, alone. The stench of the scented soap was becoming sickening, and Peter had to resist the urge to hurl it at the shower glass in front of him. This was another time where he hated his senses.

But there was something more important than that. He couldn't breathe.

The anxiety he had been feeling all day finally hit it's peak. Peter sat there underneath the spray, trying his hardest to heave in air and to stop the panic attack from coming. It felt like his lungs had shrunk, or more so it felt like they weren't even there. Peter grasped at his chest, blunt nails scraping over his skin as he tried to get ahold of himself. He tried desperately to think abut something else, but all his thoughts would revert back to being de-aged and wetting himself at school.

It was getting to the point where there were black spots painting his vision, telling him that he was probably going to pass out soon. But there was nothing he could do to prevent it, because he couldn't fucking breathe!

Peter tried to remember all of his methods of stopping a panic attack, but his mind was running so fast and was fully overrun. It was pathetic. Him, curled up on the dirty shower floor, wheezing and coughing and panicking. Alone.

Therefore, Peter was confused when the water abruptly stopped pouring down on him, and something fell around his shoulders. Then there were hands, grounded on his shoulders and slowly bringing him back to reality as a voice filled his ears. His body was shifted, the cold air from the bathroom biting at his skin. "Peter, hey buddy. It's okay. You're safe, you're with me. D- Tony. You're with Tony. You need to breathe."

Peter's eyes met Tony's, confused. When had Tony gotten here?

The man was breathing slowly and obviously, his eyes willing Peter to copy him. Peter forced himself to do so, the black spots beginning to disappear as he got ahold of his lungs once again. Tony smiled at him, though it was strained and the worry was obviously seeping through. Ever so slowly, Peter began to find himself again as his awareness returned.

Peter's eyes raked over the room, spotting his clothes in a heap on the floor. Then to his lap, where his angry red thighs and privates were in clear view of both himself and Tony. The last thing on his mind was the fact that he was naked in front of Tony Stark, Peter bringing his eyes back up to meet Tony's. The man had been looking at him, and his gaze did not falter when Peter realised this. Tony just rubbed Peter's shoulders as he calmed down, keeping silent for a few more minutes.

"You're alright." Tony said after those few minutes, offering Peter a more genuine smile. The worry didn't leave, and the dark bags seemed more prominent than ever. "We're gonna take the rest of the day slow and easy, alright, bud?"

Peter nodded, taking the second towel that Tony handed him. The one that was around his shoulders remained as Tony helped him up, his legs almost giving out. With trembling hands, Peter wrapped the towel around his waist and found himself pressing back into Tony's hold, ignoring the pain that was beginning to return after the panic attack had ended. Peter hadn't had one nearly as bad for months. Not one as bad that would make him almost pass out.

Tony said nothing and led him back into the bedroom, helping him sit on the bed. As Tony bustled around the room, Peter couldn't help but think about how similar this was to Tony taking care of him as a toddler. The man was rifling through drawers, holding up things and then placing them back with a shake of the head. Peter hadn't been looking when Tony made a choice.

Peter didn't move when Tony removed the towel from his shoulders and began drying his hair, his touch gentle. He was so reminded of what it was like being a child that it made his cheeks flush red, hating the fact that he had missed it. That he was still missing it, that he even wanted it back. None of this would have been frowned upon if he was small. He wouldn't feel bad for wanting it if he was smaller and had an excuse for it.

Peter knew he had been missing it this entire time. Only, he tried his best to ignore it.

He didn't make any effort to help as Tony moved to drying his arms and chest, before pausing as if he didn't know what to do next. Peter looked up at the man through his curls, who was looking at the pyjamas as if having a mental conversation with himself. With a shrug, Tony grabbed the shirt before opening it up, directing Peter's arms into it before buttoning it up at the front. Peter hadn't cared enough to look at the pattern on the pyjamas earlier, looking down to see small, cartoon versions of Thor's hammer. Usually, Peter would have smiled, but he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to do that again.

"Do you want help for the rest or..." Tony trailed, scratching his beard. Peter shook his head, and Tony stood back and turned around to give him some dignity. Peter didn't see any point, he didn't have one scrap of dignity left. 

Peter slowly stood up, ignoring the sting and began drying himself down. He bit on his lip, that had only just begun to heal from splitting it earlier, to stop the whimpers leaving his mouth when he dried around the rash. He winced when the skin broke, feeling a little pool of blood beginning to build. Peter ignored it and pulled his boxers on, face screwing up in pain at the scratchy feeling. It felt terrible, and instantly he wanted to cry and reach out for Tony like he had all the answers in the world. 

Ignoring the childish thought, Peter pulled on the pants and sat back down with a heavy, but shaky, sigh. Tony seemed to take that as his cue to turn around, Peter seeing the moment that Tony's eyes widened just slightly when he noticed the blood. Peter looked away, reaching up to wipe away the red with a shaking hand, feeling so small and horribly humiliated that all he wanted to do was sleep so he could forget about everything. But he couldn't sleep here, he would wet the bed without question.

He knew that Tony was kneeling down in front of him, one hand already caressing his face and wiping away whatever blood could possibly have been left behind.

Peter must have been a sight, sitting there in Thor pyjamas with a bleeding lip and puffy red eyes. He didn't even want to see himself, his lower lip beginning to shake ever so slightly the more Tony stared at him with that sad gaze.

"We need to talk." Tony whispered, though his tone of voice told Peter that there was no getting out of this no matter how hard he tried. He knew it was useless anyways. Peter nodded.

Peter didn't really remember the walk to the living room, only really becoming aware when he sat down on the couch. His heart rate immediately began to pick up when Tony didn't sit down with him, his fingers beginning to fiddle with each other as he looked up. Just as he did so, Tony began to talk.

"I'll be back, I just need to get something for you." Tony said with a slight smile and a new light in his eyes, Peter unable to return it. He forced himself to nod, which he had been doing a lot since Tony had picked him up, ignoring the turning of his stomach when Tony left his view. Anxiety was very prominent as his breathing picked up, sticking the tip of his index finger in his mouth as he curled in on himself. 

Peter couldn't stop the 'what if' thoughts from entering his mind. What if Tony didn't come back? What if Tony demanded he go home?

Tears began to well up, and Peter couldn't help but feel frustrated at himself once again. Why the fuck was he about to cry about Tony not being there? 

He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, forcing the tears to stay back. He had done enough crying today, though he felt like he would again. Peter was about to tell Tony everything, and that would most likely include the pull ups. How was he supposed to sleep tonight knowing that he was going to wet the bed? 

It felt like hours before Tony returned, his eyes having fallen shut from the exhaustion that was beginning to settle. Peter curled into Tony's side on instinct when the man sat down, feeling the intense anxiety from his departure lessening, but not completely. Tony's arm wound around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Peter's head rest on his shoulder. 

Peter opened his eyes when something was pressed into the hand he wasn't currently using to keep the tip of his index finger in his mouth. His heart surged in a way he couldn't explain when he realised it was his Iron Man plushie.

The arm that Flash had ripped off had been sewn back on, Peter removing his finger from his mouth to bring his other hand to it. He squeezed the soft toy, before bringing it closer to his stomach and somewhat hugged it. Peter could hardly care less about how childish he looked, feeling some more of the anxiety decrease as another thing he had become attached to was in his grasp. Tony rubbed his arm as Peter examined the toy, keeping quiet. Peter wondered what could possibly be going through the man's head at that current moment, whether he thought Peter was being stupid or not.

"I tried my best. I've never really done sewing, so FRIDAY had to help out." Tony sounded like he was smiling, his comfort slowly eating away at Peter's humiliation. "It's not very good, but it's back on so I guess I did okay."

Peter could tell that Tony was rambling. He didn't really mind, settling for running his fingertips over the fabric in a way to comfort himself. Tony had sewn it himself? Tony Stark was someone Peter had thought had never sewn in his life.

Sadly, to Peter's dismay, Tony didn't take long to begin asking questions. It was only a matter of time.

"You said you've been having issues since Loki aged you back up?" Tony was terribly blunt. Peter wanted to get up off the couch and run to his room to hide, but he knew deep down in his chest that Tony wasn't judging him. He just wanted Peter to be honest, he had even said so. But that barrier was still there in Peter's mind, and was causing the anxiety to well up again. Instead of speaking, he just nodded. Something he had been doing all day.

"And May knows, yeah?" Another nod. "Okay. Is there anything else that's been going on?"

Peter hesitated. Yes, of course he was. The pull ups, thumb sucking, crying all the time over the smallest of things and missing Tony so much it consumed him. He didn't want to tell Tony that.

Though, when he saw the deep bags under the mans eyes again, he immediately felt terrible for hiding it. What if Tony's exhaustion was because of him?

"Y-yeah." Peter whispered, and went to say something else but choked on air. He didn't want to tell Tony anything else.

"I can't help you if I don't know, Peter." Tony said after it was clear that Peter wasn't going to talk again. "I'm not going to judge you. You did go through something no one should have had to go through. Pete, I literally looked after you the entire time. There's nothing I'd judge you for if you're having trouble, uh... adjusting?"

When Tony's eyes flickered to his lips, Peter realised that his thumb had been nearing his mouth and he hadn't even realised. Cheeks flushing red, he lowered it and squeezed his plushie instead. Here, under Tony's arm, he felt incredibly small. He felt as small as he had when he was a toddler, but couldn't imagine feeling so carefree ever again. Peter hated himself for wanting to be carried around in Tony's arms, sitting in his lap, having the bottles and playing with toys. 

"Is that something that keeps happening?" Tony asked, nodding his head just the slightest in the direction of Peter's hands. Peter nodded yet again, squeezing the good arm of the Iron Man stuffie between his thumb and pointer finger. "That's alright, buddy. Anything else?"

Peter hated the look on Tony's face. The man looked sad. Was he sad because Peter wasn't telling him?

He looked away and instead looked at the Iron Man toy. "I cry all the time."

The arm around his shoulders tightened. Tony didn't say anything, as if he were expecting Peter to continue. So he did.

"I'm s-scared everyone knows what happened." Peter mumbled, feeling Tony crane his neck to listen to him. "I know it's s-stupid. But the pictures of me as a baby are scary."

Peter's voice was so incredibly small and shaky. Humiliating. 

"You're not stupid, Peter. How many times am I going to have to tell you that?"

Peter ignored him and took a deep breath. "May got me pull ups."

Peter refused to look up as he let Tony process the information, getting ready to be pushed away for being such a child. When nothing happened of the sort and the silence continued to stretch, warily Peter lifted his eyes to find Tony's. Tony wasn't looking at him, but more so at the dark TV screen, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. The man almost looked disappointed, though Peter couldn't possibly know why. He looked away when Tony turned to face him. 

"That's okay." Tony's voice didn't waver. It was gentle, soft like Peter's. It reminded him too much of the toddler memories that it made his insides swirl all over again. "I can have some ordered for tonight."

Peter wanted to ask why tonight, but found that he didn't want to. He wanted to stay at his Daddy's, it had been too long. Even if he was worried about wetting the bed. Peter missed him too much to just leave in a few hours. Even when Tony was sitting right next to him like this, he still felt anxious. Like he would leave at any moment. That he would leave Peter to deal with his many issues on his own. Like Tony was going to leave and never come back.

Was this separation anxiety?

"Is there anything else that's been bothering you?" 

"I can't do my homework anymore." Peter sniffed, realising his eyes were burning. Fuck, he was so sick of crying. "I'm failing everything. I can't focus. I hate school."

"Kid, you should have told me earlier." Tony didn't sound mad, or disappointed. He sounded sad and Peter hated it so much. "Did you think I would be mad?"

Peter was done lying. "Yes."

Tony sighed beside him. "Peter, I could never be mad at you for something like this. This isn't your fault. And no, I don't think you're gross or whatever you're thinking right now. I literally changed your diapers for like a month, I think we're way past that."

"It is =gross." Peter mumbled, shaking his head a little to try and clear the tears in his eyes. Over just a few seconds, the frustration had fused back into his veins. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm supposed to be able to handle myself now, not pissing myself like a little kid and crying over nearly everything!"

Tony didn't say a word, so Peter kept talking.

"My face looks different now." Peter mumbled, squeezing the Iron Man plushie incredibly tight. "I'm sick of crying. But I can't help it."

"Crying isn't bad, and you don't look any different to me. Still my fifteen-year-old Spider-Kid." Tony said after a few moments, still rubbing his arm. Peter wasn't sure if he had heard Tony's voice shaking when he was saying how old Peter was, but ignored it. Hearing someone else saying his age sounded... weird. He was fifteen, yes. But over the short time of being a toddler again, he had become used to it. Too used to it. No matter how many times he told himself he was one age, he always found himself craving the other. His thoughts didn't even make sense. He listened to Tony's voice instead. "Loki did mention side effects."

"What if this is just me now?" Peter whispered, feeling the frustration beginning to drain out of him as the fear took over. The tears welled up in his eyes despite his efforts, and he knew another meltdown was on it's way. Or maybe another panic attack. Everything felt the same now. "What if we can't fix it? What if I'm stuck like this?"

"We can fix it." Tony said, keeping his voice low. "Loki's still here. I can go talk to him, if you want me to."

Peter had looked up at Tony as he said those words, not missing how his face began to pale. He knew what talking to Loki meant. It meant going in that spaceship again, a spaceship that was filled with aliens. Peter remembered going in there, meeting the Hulk and Tony's fear. Despite how much the ship itself terrified him, he didn't want Tony to go alone.

"I want to come." Tony's eyes widened, and he went to protest. "N-no. I want to come."

Tony's mouth closed, before the man nodded with a clenched jaw. The fear was obvious in his eyes, and it made tears leak from Peter's. His emotions continued to build and build and build, choosing to press his face into Tony's side instead of talking anymore. Tony hugged him, the two of them sitting in a comfortable silence, Peter trying not to let the exhaustion he was feeling take over. The only sound in the room was his sniffles, the room silent and almost peaceful.

"Does May know where you are?" Tony asked after a few minutes, his chin resting on the top of Peter's head. Peter thought the question over, wondering if the school had called May or not to let her know. There was no way he could know that unless he looked at his phone, but he found that was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to explain to Ned or Michelle what had happened, and he knew they would be sending him messages by now. Peter had turned his phone on silent a long time ago, and turned off the vibrations also. He didn't want to speak with anyone unless he had to.

"I don't know."

"I'll give her a call later, hmm?" Peter only nodded, wiping his eyes before resting his head in the crook of Tony's neck. The position was kind of uncomfortable, but Peter wanted to be as close as possible. He was embarrassed that Tony now knew everything, but was immensely relieved that the man hadn't thrown him out. 

It was stupid of Peter to even think that in the first place. May had always been right, Tony would never cut him off because of something like this. 

Peter continued to forget that it wasn't just him who went through the whole de-aging fiasco, but Tony too. Tony had to look after him the entire time, and had to do all the gross things that came with looking after a baby. These thoughts caused Peter to cringe through his tears, not wanting to remember when he got gastro. Ew.

Tony turned on the TV after sitting in silence for a while, flicking through channels as Peter just watched. He wanted to go to sleep, but that wasn't an option. He had been lucky on the drive here.

"Pete?"

Peter looked up to let Tony know he had heard him, letting the tears fall freely. There was a time when Peter would have been mortified of crying in front of Tony Stark, but that time was long gone. He leaned into Tony's touch when the man wiped away his tears, waiting to hear what his Dad had to say. 

"I'd never get mad at you because of something that's out of your control." Pause. "You can always come to me. I know I'm not the best with feelings and everything but I'm trying. Trying to be better than Howard."

Howard. Howard Stark. 

Peter didn't know much about Tony's childhood, but he knew it couldn't have been good from the way he had said Howard's name, and that he hadn't called him Dad. 

"You have May, too. Your friends. You don't have to suffer alone. I learnt that the hard way." Peter looked up at his Daddy, suddenly feeling like he was back in that toddler body, scared and defenceless. Useless, even, because all his movements were clunky and he couldn't walk one hundred percent stably. Peter adored Tony, and it had only amplified since the incident. Tony's eyes were glistening as he looked right at Peter, talking directly to him. "I know I might not show it but I do love you, kiddo. I hate seeing you cry so much, I wish you had told me sooner."

For the first time all day, Peter smiled. 

It felt strange to smile after such a long time, but let it happen anyways. Tony's lips twitched into a smile also, though it faded after a few moments.

"I'd do anything for you, kid. I'm sure you already know that." Tony said after a few moments, finally looking away from him. Peter's soft smile stayed on his lips as he cuddled into his Daddy's side, hugging the Iron Man plushie to his stomach with one hand at the other stretching over Tony's stomach, clenching his shirt in a fisted hand. 

"I love you too, Dad."

Tony's arm tensed, and then a kiss was pressed to his temple. 

Peter was content, for the first time since he had grown back up. 

Content, he wished he stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> far from home is just- wow


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for another filler chapter... good stuff is coming soon. but i updated a little faster, what a surprise!

Peter stood hidden in the shadows of the light shining in from the kitchen, leant up against the wall of the hallway. Voices echoed around him, fingers rubbing against the soft fabric of his Thor pyjamas as he guiltily listened in on his Aunt and Daddy's conversation in the kitchen. He made sure to stand far back enough so he wouldn't be visible, and listening in wasn't a problem. His powers did all that for him, and all that was left for him to do was feel guilty.

Peter's thighs were constantly screaming in pain in pain, although he could feel it healing already. Hopefully tomorrow the rash would be gone, and he wouldn't have to hide his winces.

Tony had called May just a little after their chat, and despite Peter's hopes, her shift had been over. Now, it was just past seven at night, and Peter had been sent to his room to.. get changed.

Images of the god forbidden package of pull ups May brought from their apartment loomed into his mind, which were currently sitting in the middle of his bed. Peter was hoping for the package to burn a hole in his bed and melt through the floor just so he wouldn't have to put one on. It had been bearable in his own apartment, when only May knew about the little predicament. But now he was in the fucking Avengers Compound. 

He was meant to be putting one on, but somehow he found himself shuffling down the hallway to stand where he is standing right now, listening in on Tony and May's conversation.

Peter had missed the beginning of their talk, but by the time he reached a good hearing distance he knew what they were talking about immediately. He just hoped that FRIDAY wouldn't dob on him for listening and not putting on the stupid pull up, as instructed by both of his parent figures. It was more like they wanted an excuse for him to leave the room, along with the fact that he actually needed them if he wanted to keep the bed dry.

He resisted the urge to slap himself across the face, yanking his pyjama sleeves over his hands so only the tips of his fingers were peeking out, refusing to give into the urge to peer around the corner to see the adult's expressions.

Though it was convenient for him, Peter seemed to have arrived at the perfect time.

"-you tell me as soon as it started?" Tony had been saying, his tone of voice almost accusing. Peter's eyebrows furrowed at that. He continued to listen. "I could have helped him earlier. I didn't even notice! What kind of parent does that make me, May? I knew something was wrong but I didn't think it was this bad. I should have known earlier, why didn't you tell me?"

Parent.

Peter's heart gut clenched so suddenly almost fell over, pushing his back against the wall to stay steady. Sure, Tony had looked after him for a month because he had been de-aged into a baby. Sure, Peter had noticed that maybe Tony didn't mind. Sure, Tony constantly told him he would do anything for Peter and probably had said he thought of him as a son at some point.

But Peter had never heard him say it like that.

A small smile appeared on Peter's face, but faded soon after the conversation continued. 

"He didn't want me to. It doesn't make you a bad parent for not noticing. Come on, Tony, I didn't notice my kid was Spider-Man!" May replied, her voce sounding a little shaky towards the end. Her tone wasn't angry, and neither was Tony's. So they weren't arguing.

Thank God.

"I'm sorry, I know I should have let you know what was going on. The first few days I thought it would eventually go away on it's own because his body was adjusting to being a teenager again. I didn't expect it to turn into this... I had no idea he was having accidents while he was awake."

There was a beat of silence before Tony spoke again. "He looks so fragile, May. Pete's never looked like that."

"I know." There was a light sigh. "I've noticed it too. He's not the same as he was before."

Peter felt his throat close in a little, his earlier happiness beginning to disappear as his breath hitched. Waiting a few terrifying moments, he worried that maybe they had heard him, but their conversation continued without any indication that they had. They hadn't heard him, they still didn't know he was there and listening to everything they were saying. Either of them could say anything right now and Peter would hear.

"Fuck, I should have known." Tony sighed, his voice now the one that was shaking. "I'm going to kill Loki. This is his fault, that bastard never knows when to stop."

"I'll join you." There was the soft sound of laughter, maybe a little forced, between them. 

"Is there anything he hasn't told me?" Tony asked next, Peter still leaning up against the wall with no intention of leaving just yet. 

"He's told you everything that he's told me." May replied, Peter letting out a puff of air in relief. It fell silent again.

Peter took that as his cue to leave, already feeling guilty enough for listening. As quietly and slowly as he could, he backed away from his place in the hall and made his way back down the hall to his room. He clenched his lip between his teeth when his thighs burned from the fabric rubbing against them, trying not to split his lip again from the pressure. He had been doing that too often lately, and he was a little worried that if he split it too much it would end up scarring and become permanent.

Was that even possible? He had no idea.

Once Peter was a safe distance away from the two adults, he released his lip and let out a near-silent whimper. His heart dropped into his stomach when he remembered what he would be faced with when he got back into his room, but ignored the feeling and hurried back to his room as quickly as he could without hurting himself too bad. Instead of putting on the pull up straight away like he was supposed to, Peter sped into the bathroom and over to the toilet.

This room was now plagued with the memory of his panic attack, Peter ignoring the way his throat closed up once again as he did his business. Pointedly ignoring the angry red, he quickly forced himself to go. He hadn't needed to, but he knew he would have another one of those warning twinges at some point. Peter hadn't been to the bathroom since wetting himself in the classroom, and he was pretty much expecting the accident now. Pissing now would prevent that, just like his system had been working at school. Until today, when he had been distracted and already having a bad day.

Once he was finished, he washed his hands as slowly as he could. God, he didn't want Tony to see him in a pull up. He knew that technically, Tony couldn't see it because he would have his pants on over the top. Peter could hear it crinkle every time he moved, and going through that alone even made him uncomfortable. Having it on in the presence of the person he looked up to most in the world was downright terrifying, but he knew he would rather that than wetting one of the beds.

Besides, Tony had changed his diapers anyways.

God, that was a strange thought he never thought he would have in his life.

Tony Stark changed his diapers.

Peter sulked back into his room, thumb prodding against his lips as he came to a halt in front of his bed. On top of his duvet was the opened package of pull ups, Peter's cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. The appropriate number of pull ups were missing, each for every night since May bought them for him. He couldn't believe this was his life now.

Flash would love to see this. Another thing about Peter for him to hate.

Instead of putting one on, he sat down on his bed and looked the other way. His eyes found the Iron Man plush that he had brought to his room with him, sitting innocently on his pillow with it's sewn arm sticking out a little more than the other. Peter's heart swelled at the thought of Tony sewing it up for him, reaching out and grabbing the toy with one hand. He stared into the eye slits of the toy, feeling his eyes burn. He wanted to cry again, and he didn't even know why!

Before he could have another complete mental breakdown, there was a soft knock on his door. Peter lifted his head in the direction the knock had came from, waiting maybe a little too long to answer whoever was standing on the other side.

"Peter, honey? Is everything okay?" It was May. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." Peter said just loud enough for his Aunt to hear, thankful that she did because he didn't know if he could speak any louder. The door opened quietly, his Aunt shuffling into the room with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes glistened behind her glasses, which lead Peter to wonder the direction that her and Tony's chat had gone to after he had left. 

Peter watched her look between the pull ups and Peter, a sadder look appearing on her face. She sat down beside him, pulling his hand away from his mouth and held it in her own. "You've been in here for a while, sweetie. Have you put one on yet?"

Immediately feeling guilty for listening in on their conversation, Peter shook his head.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to pick you up from school today." She whispered after a few moments, squeezing his hand before pulling away. Peter simply watched as May turned around, grabbed the package and pulled it into her lap. Her hands paused for a few moments, sparing a glance to her nephew before pulling one of the pull ups out. Peter's cheeks burned the same shade of red that was coating his thighs, May placing the pull up right in his lap. 

She swapped it for the Iron Man plush, taking the toy into her own hands before Peter could complain. "You need to put it on, Peter. If you're worried about Tony judging you, he won't. You know he won't. He's willing to do anything for you, I'm sure he's let you know that. Just put it on, no one here is judging you for needing it right now. He told me he's going to talk to.. uh, Loki?"

Peter nodded, wiping his eyes before the tears could fall. "I know."

"It's going to get better, sweetheart." Was it? "I know it's embarrassing, but it's benefiting you."

Peter nodded as May pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'll put it on."

"We'll be in the living room." May said almost immediately, giving his shoulder a few comforting squeezes before standing. She placed his Iron Man plush on the dresser as she made her way out, giving him another comforting smile before leaving as quietly as she had come. Peter loved her so much it was almost overwhelming, wiping away another tear before it had a chance to fall before standing. He made his way into the bathroom, rather that the bedroom. He felt exposed in the bedroom.

As quickly as he could, he changed his boxers for the pull up and yanked his Thor pyjama pants over the top. As soon as he moved, he felt and heard the crinkle that the pull up made and felt the burn increase. Peter knew this was pretty much a glorified version of a diaper, and that it was mostly meant for old people who couldn't control their bladders perfectly anymore. Peter wasn't supposed to be wearing a diaper of any kind at fifteen years old.

Then again, he wasn't supposed to be de-aged either, or bitten by a radioactive spider.

With a deep breath, he moved back into his bedroom and grabbed his plush from where May had left it on the dresser. With another fleeting glance back to the package that had been moved to the floor, he shuffled his way out of his room and down the hallway in the direction of the living room. The more crinkling sounds he heard, the more his eyes burned and the more he wanted to launch himself off of one of the Compound's balconies just to avoid the embarrassment. Tony was going to laugh at him.

Peter shook the thought away immediately. No he wasn't. Peter knew he wouldn't.

But he would.

Peter scrubbed each tired and teary eye with a closed fist as he continued shuffling down the hall, moving as slowly as he could so it would take longer for him to get there and to stop the burn. Whatever resolve he had gotten for May's arrival had disappeared completely now, and once again he was that scared little kid who had wet themselves in one of his classrooms in front of a teacher. He squeezed his Iron Man plush between his elbow and ribcage, continuing to rub his eyes to try stop the tears from appearing. Why did he have to cry so much? Every time he would start, he would never be able to stop. It felt like he was crying every minute of the day over something he had lost. He hadn't even lost anything!

What would his friends think? What would Ned and Michelle would think?

They didn't even know what had happened today, and Peter was sure his phone would be blowing up with messages and calls.

That was a worry for another time. Better yet, he would never tell them what happened today.

Peter hesitated when he reached the living room, once again hiding in the shadows behind the two adults in the room. The TV was on with a cartoon that Peter didn't recognise, spotting some purple looking cat smiling and laughing evilly onscreen as it made some weapon. Peter didn't bother to wonder what kind of cartoon that was.

May had her back to him, sitting in the exact same spot Peter had been sitting with Tony at his side just a few hours ago. Peter's eyes raked the room for said man, feeling himself pale considerably when he realised Tony had been staring at him this entire time.

The man was stretched out on the recliner, and had a clear view of the hallway where Peter was standing. It looked like someone had just died, from the look on Tony's face, and Peter had no idea how to react when it was directed at him. After a few moments, Tony seemed to recover from whatever daze he was in and plastered a strained smile on his face. Peter saw right through it, seeing all the concern hidden in his gaze. That just caused Peter to scrunch up his face more in an attempt to stop himself from crying again, fisting his eyes for the umpteenth time. Why couldn't he fucking stop crying?

"Come here, Peter." Tony said, arms open as if he were asking for a hug. Peter hesitated, spotting May's face fall when she turned around to look at him. Peter avoided her saddened gaze, finally gathering the courage to make his way over to his Daddy, who still had his arms open for him. Peter stopped once he was at Tony's recliner, not wanting to move anymore because of that fucking crinkling sound and his burning privates. Tony was laid outstretched on the recliner, legs up and all. With one hand, Tony managed to reach up and grab onto Peter's sleeve and pull him closer.

Peter heard the crinkle, his eyes shooting to Tony's to see if he had noticed. There wasn't a slight indication that Tony had heard, but there was many possibilities that he had. Or maybe, it was Peter's senses being dialled up to eleven that made him constantly hear the crinkle whenever he moved. Paranoia could also play a big part in that. Maybe he was hearing things because of it? 

As if a switch had been flipped, Peter slumped. He let Tony pull him down into the recliner, ending up half laying on his mentor. Peter's mind was launched back to when he would fall asleep like this, lying on top of Tony's chest in a much smaller body. Peter had adored it, he could always hear Tony's heartbeat when he laid like that and it was comforting. Peter mirrored his toddler self's movement as if it were instinct, placing his ear right above where Tony's heart would be. 

Tony's arms wound around him, letting Peter get himself comfortable as he screwed his eyes shut and shoved his thumb in his mouth. He didn't care anymore. Tony knew Peter was wearing a pull up, and him seeing him sucking on his thumb wasn't nearly as bad as that. They were going to talk with Loki tomorrow. Things would be fixed and he would be able to act like a normal teen again... right?

Somewhere, deep in his mind, he knew that he would never be able to act like a normal teen again.

One of Tony's hands rested directly on top of the hem of Peter's pyjama pants, as if he were checking Peter had actually put the pull up on. This is what really caused Peter's tears to fall, but he ignored it as he forced his eyes open and focused them on the TV instead of Tony.

Peter watched the cartoon for a few moments, confused as to why some purple cat was so hellbent on torturing some kid. He only lasted a few minutes watching the kid's cartoon, ending up turning away and pressing his face into Tony's chest. Swallowing shakily, he tried not to choke up. 

He was so embarrassed, maybe more embarrassed than he had been all day, and here he was curled up in Tony's arms like he was a baby again. But he couldn't help the feeling of safety he felt, with Tony and May here with him in what would be one of the most secure places in America. The two people he cared most about in the world, and he wanted to feel content like he had those few hours ago. But he couldn't, because his mind didn't want to let him rest anymore and always reminded him of the negatives.

Desperately, he wanted sleep. He was exhausted, and all he wanted was to forget about his horrible day. He closed his eyes, subconsciously nuzzling closer into Tony's chest and inhaled his scent through his partially-blocked nose. 

When he opened his eyes a few moments later, he was alone.

Huh. He must have fallen asleep after all.

Peter rubbed his sore eyes, breathing through his mouth since his nose remained blocked. It was oddly cold in the room, and all the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. Had Tony turned on the air conditioner while he was asleep? Why would he do that?

Peter was shivering, teeth chattering within a matter of seconds. Why was it so cold? "Mr. Stark?" 

No answer.

Peter pushed the blanket from his shoulders, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He immediately regretted doing so when he became colder, instantly yanking the blanket back over his shoulders and pulled it closer around him. It was too cold, far too cold for him. His powers made it so he didn't do well in the cold. Peter could see the air leaving his mouth in a cloud of mist, the confusion only increasing. With the confusion, came the fear.

Something wasn't right.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter stuttered, his teeth chattering as he eased himself out of the chair. The cold reminded him of the Vulture dropping him the he lake, the memories of the freezing water closing in on him as he got trapped in his parachute. Then, Tony had saved him. The feeling of freezing cold water surrounding him never left, but Tony had been there to help him. Tony would save him now, right? "T-Tony?"

Peter shuffled a few steps, almost collapsing from how cold it was. That was when he heard a crack right above him.

Peter's eyes slowly made their way up to the roof, his earlier fear amplifying by three-thousand as he realised what was happening. Just above him, the ceiling was cracking. It almost resembled a spider's web, Peter's fight or flight response immediately kicking into gear. He continued to stare up at the ceiling, watching as the cracks gradually became bigger and bigger, expanding over almost the entire ceiling.

He willed his legs to move, to run, but he was rooted to the spot. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't get his muscles to work. With no web shooters, his only option was to run. But his muscles didn't want him to do so.

Panicked tears rushed to his eyes when tiny fragments of plaster began to land around him on the floor, letting him know that he only had a few minutes at best to get himself out before the entire ceiling collapsed on top of him.

"D-Dad!" Peter cried out, for the lack of a better thing to do, feeling himself becoming smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by. As those seconds passed, he felt more and more like a scared child than Spider-Man. The blanket fell from his shoulders, the ice cold air biting into his skin even through his pyjamas. Hardly noticing that he'd called his mentor multiple different titles in the span of a few minutes, he looked around, desperately looking for someone. Anyone. "M-May!"

No one answered him, no one came to help. Peter burst into tears as the panic really settled in, willing every muscle in his legs to just move, to get him out of there before the ceiling collapsed. Every time he looked up, he could see the ceiling caving in more and more. Peter's mouth fell open when water began to spurt through the cracks, raining down on as cold as the air. Peter screamed out, throwing his hands over his head when the cracking sound got louder and louder.

When there was a crack as loud as thunder, Peter knew he was done for.

Water poured down on him, the feeling far too close to the one of falling in the lake. The sheer force of the water sent him falling backwards onto the floor, landing on with a thud. Peter winced as he back of his head smacked against the floor, leaving him dazed for a few moments. Along with that, the wind was knocked out of him and he couldn't breathe.

Moments later, something large and heavy crushed his chest. Peter wheezed, trying to cough but there was no air, even less than he had when he had fallen. His arms flew wildly, fingers trying to get grip to push whatever it was on top of him off. It took him a few moments to realise that it was a chunk of the ceiling on top of him, a huge slab of concrete constricting his airways. This was far too much like when the Vulture dropped the building on him, and the lasting effects of PTSD began to make themselves known. 

But this time, two of Peter's worst experiences were mixing together. Getting dumped in the lake, and getting a building dumped on him.

"D-Dad-dy!" Peter wheezed out as loud as he could, which wasn't very loud at all, feeling the pressure increase around his chest and face the more he tried to fight it. Water sprayed directly into his mouth, being forced into his lungs as he struggled to free himself. 

He couldn't move and he couldn't breath. He was going to die, and that pressure around his face began to increase within seconds. It was almost like someone was grabbing onto him, squeezing his face. It must have been the water, which was still rushing down on him and suffocating him. The room would have been flooded by now, with the amount of water pouring onto him.

Peter forced his eyes shut against the flow of the water and prepared for the inevitable.

"Peter!" 

Peter's eyes flew back open when he heard his name against the sound of rushing water, a panicked and strangled gasp leaving his mouth as he shot up. The weight was no longer on his chest, and he had been laying face down rather than on his back. 

With panic still coursing through his veins, Peter choked on a sob instead of the water that had been filling his mouth just moments ago. There was warmth hugging his waist, and honestly, he felt warm all over. He wasn't soaked in ice cold water, and the air temperature was warm and not freezing cold like it had been when he woke up.

Peter's face was wet, though he was sure it was from tears and not the freezing cold water that had engulfed him. Glancing up at the ceiling and rapidly blinking his eyes to clear them of tears, he realised with a start that there was no gaping hole in the roof. There was no water, no cracks, no nothing. No signs of what Peter had just gone through.

It clicked not long after. He had been in a nightmare.

"Peter, hey." Warm hands were cupping his face, directing his head away from where it faced the ceiling. Peter's eyes flickered to the person who was holding his face, realisation smacking him right in the face when his eyes met Tony's. He had fallen asleep cuddling with Tony, and had ended up having a nightmare. That was the only conclusion he could make. "You're in the Compound, buddy, you had a nightmare. You're safe."

Before Peter could stop himself, he let out a pathetic whimper. "D-Daddy."

Peter distantly watched Tony's eyes widen just slightly, but found that he didn't care. He knew it was because of the title, and Peter could already feel the mortification settling in. Before he could retract it and apologise, Tony was bringing him closer and pushing Peter's head into his chest. 

"Daddy's here." Tony whispered, running his hands through Peter's curls. Suddenly, Tony sounded rather distant, and Peter knew it must have been because of him. This made the panic increase even more, though he leaned into Tony's hold either way. "Just a nightmare."

Peter barely registered someone else resting a hand on his back, rubbing calming circles and whispering soothing words to him as he sobbed into Tony's chest. He didn't feel like a teenager anymore. He felt like a toddler, he felt like how he did when Loki de-aged him. He wasn't himself anymore. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to be the same unless Loki could do something to get rid of the lasting side effects.

If Peter had have know that being aged back up would have resulted in this, he wouldn't have wanted Loki to do it.

He'd rather be an actual baby, than a baby stuck in a teenage body.

These thoughts alone caused him to send himself into another panic attack, which left as fast as it had come. Tony had soothed him back into a semi-state of calm, Peter still clinging onto his father like an octopus. Peter's terrible day didn't seem to want to end, and despite wanting to fall back asleep he didn't want to have another nightmare. That, along with the now-cold feeling around his crotch. He refused to admit it in front of Tony.

May ended up leaving Peter at the Compound, leaving at around midnight. Peter tried his hardest to fall back to sleep, but whenever he would almost be there he would be startled awake by the fear of his nightmares. Peter wasn't happy, he hadn't been since he was aged back up. He missed Tony constantly, he missed the other people like Happy and Pepper and even Rhodey. He still thought about the Rogue Avengers and what they had done to Tony.

Peter was a mess, and he was beginning to worry he would never recover from it.

He had one last chance, and that was Loki.

His skin was burning and his eyes continued to leak with tears all through the night, until finally he was lulled into a short sleep. Waking up moments later, he was moving. Was Tony carrying him? He didn't really know. He didn't really care. In that moment, Peter had thought he was merely a toddler being carried around by his Daddy. Drifting back asleep to the calming movements, he didn't even have time to see who exactly was carrying him.

He woke up again in a different place. Peter was now in his bed, the blurred image of a person hovering above him. There was someone else in the room, someone big and tall. One of their eyes were covered by something black. In his daze, Peter couldn't put the image to a name. He was exhausted, he wanted his terrible day to be over. 

A hand was carding through his hair, Peter's eyes drifted shut. His thumb was in his mouth, something squished between his elbow. Voices met his ears.

"I will prepare Loki for your visit... I am afraid... not willing to leave the ship." 

Peter was only hearing parts of the conversation, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness as the people spoke around him. Fuck, he was tired. So, so tired.

"Why? I don't want Peter in there." A pause. "Can't you... out here?"

Peter didn't hear anything after that.

He drifted back into unconsciousness, for a moment believing that maybe he was back in his toddler body and mindset.

Or more so, that he wanted to go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sigh. i hope i didn't disappoint y'all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT 04/11/19**  
>  so i lied, i didn't post in a few weeks like i said i was going to. i really apologise for that.
> 
> if anyone happens to see this (i don't want to be annoying and post an authors note as a chapter) it will be a while before i get inspiration to continue this... i've been taking a break for the last two months and re-writing a fanfic from 2017, as well as some other stuff for other fandoms. 
> 
> thanks everyone for your kind comments. i love you all <3
> 
>  
> 
> **!PLEASE READ!**
> 
>  
> 
> hi all. 
> 
> if there’s anyone still here because i’m terrible at updating i’m so sorry for falling off the side of the earth for the last month. i’ve been very busy with school, lacking inspiration and writing other fics and editing, along with losing friends irl and online. so, if i’m honest, i haven’t touched this fic since the last time i uploaded. if halfway through this chapter it seems a little dodgy, that’s because i most likely forgot half the storyline after being MIA for over a month.
> 
> the next chapter will most likely be uploaded in the next few weeks if i have enough inspiration, if not, please stick around. i’m not leaving this story for good, i am aiming to finish! i have an ending, it’s just all the in-between i’m working on. please just bear with me, i’m trying!
> 
> also, thank you for your kind comments! getting a few every now and then as i log back on makes me feel great, and has been inspiring me to continue writing even when i lack the inspiration for it. the support works wonders, and i’m praying people are still here to read my story. 
> 
> once again, i’m so sorry for my lack of uploading, and hopefully i’ll be able to get chapters out quicker. 
> 
> if you read this really long note, thank you. i hope you enjoy even though this isn’t my best work. i cut it off in an awkward spot because i wanted to save it all for the next chapter.
> 
> i love you <3

Peter awoke to pain.

He hadn't really registered it first, still basking in the feeling of not being so exhausted anymore. For a few peaceful moments, he had forgotten what had happened the previous day and wanted to believe that he was back in the carefree state of mind he had become so used to. Though he didn't have a nightmare on his second attempt to sleep, his most recent one was still fresh in his mind and reeled him back into reality as if he were a fish stuck on a hook. The trapped feeling paired with his newfound defencelessness began to taunt him just minutes of waking up, Peter's mind somehow diverting itself to Spider-Man.

How was he supposed to look after others when he couldn't even look after himself?

God, he was becoming pathetic. Useless.

Peter rubbed his face a few times, trying to keep his eyes open. He felt better, but he was still tired. Not exhausted, but tired. The night prior was mostly a blur, Peter vaguely remembering that someone had carried him to bed. There had been two people, but he wasn't so sure who they had been. One of them had to be Tony. Their voices had merely been white noise.

The thought of Tony had him sitting up, and that's when the real burn began to settle in and whatever was left of his peaceful state disappeared.

Peter barely repressed a whimper as he yanked his covers back, as if that would stop the pain. It didn't, and the extra movement just made it worse. He soon found himself regretting pulling the covers back, his eyes widening in confusion and then the oh-so-familiar humiliation.

Spider-Man was on a far, far away planet from the one he was on right now. Peter was struggling to associate himself with the persona as he stared down into his lap, completely baffled on how this had become his life.

At this rate, Peter wished he could have been a baby again.

The thought made an odd feeling settle in his gut, the frown already on his face deepening considerably. 

Shaking his head, Peter continued to stare down into his lap. There was an obvious damp patch on his pyjama pants, mostly coating his left thigh. The sheets around were also a darker with the liquid, Peter's heart rate beginning to escalate when he realised what exactly that liquid was. There was nothing else it could be. But how? He was wearing the pull up, like he had been told to, like he had been every night for the last few days. He hadn't ruined the bed sheets since.

Peter peeled his pants back just a little, wincing at the burn the action made and also the sight of his thighs. The pull up was soaked, and that's when it came to him. He had wet himself last night, after his nightmare, and hadn't done anything about it. That means it must have overflowed... which meant he must have pissed himself again in his sleep. How?! 

He had hardly drunken anything since his incident at school.

Peter tried to make sense of the entire situation, but found he couldn't. Very little things made sense anymore.

He must have woken up at the perfect time, because minutes after Peter had his little realisation, there was a knock on his door. He thought about pretending to be asleep and ignoring whoever it was at his door, but there was no use. Everything was out in the open now. "Who is it?"

"It's just me, Pete." Daddy. Dad. Tony. Mr. Stark. "I was coming to wake you up, but seems like you beat me to it. Can I come in?"

Peter thought about saying no, but then thought better of it. He had hid this from Tony for too long, and from what he had overheard from his and May's conversation in the kitchen, it was hurting his mentor. Peter felt the urge to curl up in a ball and cry at that thought, but also in hopes that Tony would just take care of all of his problems for him.

"Yeah." Peter replied after a few seconds, not bothering to pull the covers back over his crotch. There was no point anymore, he might as well get the embarrassment over with. 

The door creaked open, Tony's form shuffling in before he closed it again behind him. The man seemed to do a double take when he saw Peter's situation, before a pained look appeared on his face. Peter wasn't sure how to react or what to say, so he just sat there, not even reaching for his Iron Man plush that lay abandoned next to him like he so desperately wanted to. 

There was a long stretch of awkward silence before Tony came over, sitting down on the edge of the bed and grabbed Peter's trembling hand. "You sure you wanna come with me to talk to Loki today? I can do it all for you, and the only time you would see him is when he is getting the spell off you. You don't have to go into that ship."

"I've been in it before." Peter retorted with no heat in his tone. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

Okay, that's not what Peter had meant to say. Despite all the resolve he claimed to have, he was sure he would burst into tears the minute Tony left the Compound. It was a very familiar feeling, one he had acted on when he was a baby and didn't want Tony to go anywhere without him, both because he was scared his Daddy would get hurt and the fact that he wasn't with Peter. So, maybe this was the separation anxiety talking, but it was out there in the open now and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Peter was done. He was done with everything.

He just wanted to be normal again, he wanted to be Spider-Man again.

But among those, he also wanted something else, but he wasn't so sure what that was. 

There was another beat of awkward silence after Peter had said those words, the hand around his tightening. Peter met Tony's eyes, seeing the shocked look on his face just before it was masked with a neutral one. Peter marvelled at the man's ability to mask his emotions so quick, even though most of the time Peter could see right through his facades. Any normal person would have brushed it off as nothing. "Alright."

Tony's eyes then moved to the bed. Peter's cheeks burned with embarrassment, trying to shift so the patch wasn't so obvious. The second he moved, his entire lap burned so bad tears stung his eyes along with the whimper that left his mouth. It hurt so, so bad and he was immediately regretting not mentioning it last night. If he had changed, maybe the rash would have healed by now and the fucking pull up wouldn't have overflowed and ruined the bed.

"God, Peter..." Tony sighed, shaking his head a few times. Peter looked away, not wanting to move his lower half even an inch. Daddy didn't seem angry at him, just sad. "You should have told me earlier, buddy, I could have fixed it before it got to this."

"I'm sorry." Peter whispered, letting out a steady puff of air through his nose. He would not cry. "I thought it would go away."

"I'm not mad at you, I've told you that." Tony rubbed his thumb over Peter's knuckles, seemingly ignoring the other problem they had on their hands. "I saw how bad the rash was yesterday. I'm guessing it's got worse rather than better?"

No more lies. Peter nodded, and Tony's breath hitched very slightly. Peter's enhanced hearing was the only reason he had heard it. "I think I still have that cream somewhere, it might help."

"It hurts." Peter whispered, taking another deep breath. 

He would not cry.

"I know."

After a few minutes, Tony stood while still holding onto Peter's hand. Peter slowly moved, trying his hardest not to crack as he slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed, placing his sock-clad feet flat on the cold floor. The burn along with the cold feeling around his lap made him want to scream because of how uncomfortable it was, finding himself clutching onto Tony's shirt in a death grip when he finally managed to stand. His legs were shaking just a little, and the burn was increasing. Why hadn't he mentioned it last night?

Peter was kind of horrified at how heavy the pull up felt, having no idea how there was.. so much. Maybe it was just his mind making him notice it more, but he soon became more preoccupied by the sheer burn all the movement was creating. Tony's arms were strong around him, basically holding him up now, but Peter didn't want to move anymore. He wanted to lie down and go back to bed and forget about his life for just a few more hours.

"Get in the shower, I'll look for that cream." Tony began moving him in the direction of the bathroom, Peter trying his very hardest not to chew on his lip. He walked with Tony, the man's arm around his shoulder as he basically dragged him through the room. "I'll get your clothes, just take that off."

Peter knew Tony was talking about the pull up, there was nothing else he could be possibly talking about. 

He nodded, pretty much collapsing onto the closed toilet lid. Tony left the room, presumably to do what he had just told Peter, and he found he couldn't move. Peter was rooted to the spot, almost too familiar to his nightmare, though in a different sense this time. He looked up to the ceiling, looking for the cracks, just in case. The air was warm and not cold. Peter was awake right now, the ceiling wasn't going to cave in on him.

Peter managed to get his buttons undone before he was slumping, wrapping his arms around himself and inhaled deeply. He felt completely and utterly pathetic. He couldn't even undress himself.

Peter wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there, staring at the bathroom tiles. His eyes had begun to droop, distantly knowing he was about to nod off right here on the toilet with his pyjama shirt's buttons undone and an overflowing pull up snug around his hips. Maybe he wasn't as refreshed as he had thought he was, feeling so overwhelmingly tired all of a sudden that all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. 

"Pete?" Tony's voice made him jump and then hiss, screwing his eyes shut as his mentor came back into the room. He heard something get placed onto the sink's counter, a bottle. The cream maybe? 

Next, hands were placed on both of his knees, Tony presumably kneeling down in front of him. Peter peeled his eyes open, meeting the concerned one's of his Daddy.

"You're still tired, aren't you?" Tony asked, squeezing his right knee. Peter nodded once. "You gotta get cleaned up, bud. It's getting worse the longer you sit in it."

"Hurts." Peter whispered, for a lack of something better to say, finally looking away from Tony and back at the bathroom floor's tiles. 

"I know it does. I found the cream, hopefully it'll help it heal." Tony replied, one hand moving to cup his cheek. "You'll feel better after you have a shower."

When Tony stood up to leave, Peter's hand shot out and grabbed onto his sleeve. Tony looked back with a confused glint in his eye, he kneeled back down and held Peter's hand. 

"What is it?" 

Peter felt the thumb on his left hand rising to his mouth, honestly trying to figure out for himself why he had stopped Tony from leaving. "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere." Tony said, offering a small smile. "I'll wait in your room, alright? I'll have your clothes all ready for you. I'll leave the cream here so you can put it on yourself, okay, bud? I'll just be in your room." 

Peter nodded to Tony's words, chewing on the end of his thumb. Tony pulled it away from his mouth, patting his knee a few times. Then, he stood up, ruffled Peter's hair and turned to leave. It took every ounce of self restraint for Peter not to run after his Daddy, forcing himself to stay seated. He had been fine the first time Tony had left the room, so why was he freaking out now?

He watched Tony leave the door a few inches ajar, before slowly forcing himself to stand up. It hurt incredibly bad, using his hand that was braced on the counter to keep himself standing. With his other hand, he pulled his pants down to reveal his mess of a pull up and the angry red rash. It was huge, and Peter wanted to once again launch himself off of one of the balconies. 

He shrugged his shirt of next, now just standing there in the pull up. To his dismay, his eyes found his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes puffy with dark bags underneath. There was still that.. something that was off with his face, but he ignored that as his eyes made their way lower. He looked ridiculous, he looked like an overgrown baby.

The rush of anger he felt after looking at himself had him ripping the pull up clean off of his body, definitely using some of his powers. This reminded him all too much of the very first time he had lost it, when he had made Tony mad and almost ripped his diaper off in his anger. In that moment, he hadn't been himself, he had felt like a child having a tantrum. He almost felt like that now, bu there was no excuse. He was a teenager now. Not a baby. He was supposed to be able to control his anger better than a two-year-old.

Though, as he stood there glaring at himself in the mirror, he figured that there wasn't much different between his toddler self and teenage self.

Seconds later, Peter looked away and let the pull up drop onto his clothes which were in a pile on the floor. They were ruined, so there was no point moving the pull up somewhere else. 

He made his way to the shower, trying his best to ignore the burn. The panic attack was fresh, though he forced that memory to the back of his mind as he turned on the water, only stepping in when it was warm enough. The severity burn was nothing compared to what it felt like under hot water, Peter ending up shrinking to the floor because his legs couldn't hold him up anymore. The running water reminded him of his nightmare, though he refused to let himself have another panic attack. He was fine. He was in the Compound. Daddy was just outside. The ceiling wasn't caving in on him, and the water was warm. He was awake and alive.

Peter managed to clean himself just a little, before the burn became too much and he shut off the water. Staggering out of the shower, he ignored his reflection and yanked a towel off the rack and began drying himself. He gave in, biting down on his lip when the burn began to increase. He scrubbed and scrubbed until he was dry all over, his eyes landing on the bottle of diaper rash cream. 

Somehow, despite all the pain he was in, Peter considered not doing it. That would just prove that he was more of a baby in his teenage body, and he was terrified of what Tony might think. But that was stupid, because Tony had been the one to get him this cream in the first place!

Peter snatched the bottle off of the shelf, immediately squeezing what he thought was a good amount before spreading it across his thighs first. If he was honest, the cool sensation was satisfying and lessoned the burn, but not completely. He continued to spread it around everywhere that hurt, before wrapping the towel around his waist and made his way back into the bedroom maybe a little too eagerly. He had been stubbornly ignoring the growing anxiety, which seemed to vanish as soon as Tony was in view.

Said billionaire was sitting on his bed, which had been made and had a different quilt cover on top. In his hands was Peter's plushie, and next to him was a pile of neatly folded clothes with a...

Peter's cheeks burned as red as his thighs. 

"Before you say anything," Tony cut in when he saw the expression on Peter's face, looking like he was about to panic himself. "You say you have little warning before you have to go, yes?"

Peter nodded, leaning against the doorframe. The burn had lessoned, but that didn't mean it had completely vanished. It still hurt like a bitch.

This was entirely his fault, as per usual.

"I think it would be better if you wore this," Tony gestured to the pull up, waving the Iron Man plush around as he spoke. "Until Loki get's you fixed up."

"What if he can't fix me?" Peter whispered, not wanting to bring it up. But there was always that possibility, and Parker luck never served him greatly. "What if I'm stuck like this forever, Da- To- Mr. Stark."

"I don't care if you call me Dad." Tony spoke up, his cheeks turning a little pink. "I'm pretty used to it, y'know. You called me that when you were just pint-sized Peter. No more of this Mr. Stark crap, we're way past that and you know it reminds me of my father."

Tony's tone had become tense, and immediately Peter felt terrible. He couldn't do anything right. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise." Tony stood, replacing the Iron Man plush with the pull up. Peter immediately wanted to flee, but there was nowhere to go. "Just put this on, Petey. It's fine. No one will notice."

"It's stupid." Peter whispered, really, really wanting to throw himself off a cliff.

"It's not." A pause. "Nothing about you is stupid."

Peter waited a few moments, before slowly grabbing the pull up from Tony. He was met with a smile, a hand coming up to ruffle his hair. "Good boy."

He blushed from the praise, hating that he really felt like he had done something good. Like he was merely a child seeking appreciation from their father.

Well, he pretty much was.

Peter moved around his Dad, trying to stop himself from limping. He was kind of proud of himself that he hadn't started crying yet, and wanted to keep it that way.

Tony stayed with his back to him as he got changed, which Peter found he was very grateful for. He put on the pull up as quickly as he could before pulling the plain grey sweatpants over the top, then his shirt and hoodie over his chest. The cream felt uncomfortable and slimy, but it felt better than the red hot pain. It wasn't totally gone, but it felt much better.

Once he was dressed, the two made their way down to the kitchen for breakfast. Peter forced the food down, feeling the undeniable churn of nerves in his stomach as he looked out the window. Just from where he was, Peter was able to see the spaceship. Memories of Tony carrying him in there floated through his mind, and how careless he had been about the whole thing. Now, though, he was terrified. He didn't want anyone to see him.

Around five minutes later, FRIDAY's voice filled the room.

"Boss, Mr. Odinson is requesting entry." Peter's nerves escalated by a thousand, immediately hunching in on himself. Thor was going to see him. Fuck. 

Tony must have seen his panic, because the man was by his side in seconds with a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Pete. He's not gonna say anything. Also, just thought I'd let you know, it was Thor who carried you to bed last night."

Peter nearly died right there on the spot. He knew it hadn't been Tony carrying him.

Before Peter could reply, Tony told FRIDAY to let Thor in. Peter ducked his head when he heard the God coming, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he subconsciously laced his fingers together, placing his hands over his crotch. He knew that would only make the pull up more obvious, but he pushed those thoughts away and refused to look up at Thor. 

"Friends!" Thor boomed, his voice giving Peter a right old heart attack. "How are you all?"

"We're fine, Thor." Tony replied, his tone level. "Loki ready for us?"

"Yes. He seems rather pleased, however I am unsure why." Thor was standing close to him. "Hello, young Spider!"

"Hi." He was embarrassed and how quiet he was, but didn't say anything else. A hand laid on his shoulder, one that wasn't Tony's, and the touch was surprisingly gentle. It reminded him of just last night. It had definitely been Thor."Do not worry, my brother means no harm. He is rather skeptical about exiting the ship, I apologise."

Peter raised his eyes to meet Thor's after a few seconds of silence, offering a shaky smile. Thor was absolutely beaming at him, his one blue eye shining. Peter could almost feel the man's happiness bleeding into him, making him feel a little calmer. If someone had told Peter that Thor himself would have his hand on his shoulder, he would have scoffed and rolled his eyes. But now it was happening, it felt like he was dreaming, and he was pretty sure he was living in an alternate reality. The God of Thunder had carried him to _bed!_

"Shall we?" Tony snapped when it was clear no one else was going to speak, a particular edge to his tone now. His arm wound around Peter's shoulders, the man's most definitely resting on top of Thor's. "I want to get this over with as fast as possible."

Peter looked between the two men as they seemed to share some silent conversation, before Thor pulled his hand away. "Of course."

Thor began to walk, Peter obediently following when Tony gently applied pressure to his shoulder. Peter hugged himself to avoid stuffing his thumb in his mouth, feeling the overwhelming urge to self soothe. His rash burned and burned with every minuscule movement, but he shoved the sensation away as he tried to think about something else. When all of this was over, then he would worry about the rash. 

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't scared about going into the ship again. The first time, he had hardly been in his proper mindset to care. But now, he didn't have an excuse for acting like a baby, and he was pretty sure Loki wouldn't be able to do anything to help him.

It felt stuffy in the lift, Peter feeling awfully claustrophobic between the two adults. Maybe it was his nerves, maybe it was his burning genitals, maybe it was because he wanted to stick his thumb in his mouth. Either way, he hated it, and his senses were making it worse. Peter held it all in until the lift doors opened, releasing a strangled gasp of air as they made their way through the garage. 

Tony's arm never left his shoulders, Thor leading the way. Every now and then, Thor would glance back and smile at him, as if he were making sure Peter was okay. Peter was moving slower, definitely because of his rash. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget about the pain or force himself to walk faster. The pull up crinkled along with every movement, Peter feeling incredibly subconscious. He was pretty sure Thor didn't have enhanced hearing, but he was terrified the man would hear it anyways.

When they reached the fallen over trees, Peter wanted to burst into tears. The logs were big, he didn't want to stretch his legs further than he needed to. Thor was already clambering over them, Tony getting ready to do the same. His arm finally fell from Peter's shoulder, Peter immediately closing in on himself as his fingers prodded at his lower lip. 

As if Thor could sense his anxiety, the man turned around from where he stood on one of the logs. The man stared at Peter for a few moments, Tony turning around to do the same. Peter shrunk away from the attention, the daunting image of the spaceship behind the two adults making his nerves increase spectacularly. The fear ran through his veins, ice cold as Thor began making his way over, jumping down onto the ground with a satisfying thump. 

"Are you in pain?" Thor asked, tilting his head almost like a concerned puppy. Peter gaped for a moment, his eyes flickering to Tony. The man looked sad, the bags under his eyes looking even more prominent. He was staring right at Peter, looking like he was mourning. It was almost like the man was trying not to cry, and Peter had no idea how to react. Tony hadn't looked like that a few minutes ago. What had Peter done?

Peter must have taken too long to reply, because Thor was speaking again before he could even open his mouth. 

"I shall help you." Peter's brain barely had time to comprehend what was going on before their were hands under his armpits, his feet leaving the floor as he was lifted into the air. Letting out a surprised screech, Peter's arms flailed for a few moments, unsure what to do with them as Thor continued to lift him. Even the burning of his thighs was gone momentarily as his brain's sole focus was the fact that Thor _was lifting him off of the fucking ground._

Behind Thor, Tony's eyes had widened. Peter held eye contact with his Daddy for a few moments, Thor blissfully unaware of what was going on, Peter wrapping his legs around the God's waist almost on instinct. Once he realised what he was doing, Peter tried to push Thor away, trying got get out of his arms to save himself the embarrassment. 

Peter was horrified to see that Thor looked hurt at Peter trying to push him away. "Did I do something wrong? I only wished to assist you."

"I- Um-" Peter stammered, too shocked to even care about how bad his lap burned. Beneath all the pain and embarrassment, was familiarity. The only thing was that it wasn't Tony carrying him. "It's fine."

"I will not drop you. I am sure Tony would have my head." Thor laughed, before he began moving. It was seconds before it was all over, Peter soon back on his own feet after Thor carried him effortlessly over the trees. Tony followed behind them silently, Peter resisting the urge to reach out for his Daddy. He didn't want Thor to carry him. He wanted Daddy to carry him. His thumb had made it's way into his mouth by the time Peter was set down, only for Tony to pull it out.

"You alright, bud?" Tony was asking, looking terrified. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"It's okay." Peter whispered, gravitating to Tony. "I can do it."

"Okay, Petey." Tears burned in Peter's eyes for an unknown reason. "Let's go."

Peter and Tony followed Thor to the ship, and soon, the three of them were at the beginning of the ramp.

Peter was terrified.

Although, he wasn't so sure if it was because of Loki himself, or because of the fact that there was a possibility that he wouldn't be able to get fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unedited and the ending is rushed because i needed to get something out
> 
> i love thor pls don't touch me 
> 
> sorry again for having y'all wait so long

**Author's Note:**

> feedback would be greatly appreciated uwu


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